Sins of the Father
by Lord Caelum
Summary: What if The Darkness had to intervene to save Harry Potter's life on his eleventh birthday? What if, unlike every other Darkness Host to have ever lived, he actually tries to be good?
1. Prologue: Birthright

**Disclaimer**: The Darkness and Harry Potter franchises are not mine, never will be mine, and can't be mine. I only ever heard about the Darkness in the first place because of the videogame (and researching about it from there), and despite me loving HP (not in that way you bastards) I never considered owning him in that way either. They belong to their respective creators, who I'm sure are much too busy to bother me at this point in time.

**Advanced Note:** Now, for anyone who's even HEARD about the Darkness franchise, you should be well prepared for anything I'm going to write. For those who haven't, well, there's a very good reason as to why this is rated M in the first place. My first and only warning.  
><strong><br>Advanced Advanced Note:** That said, I'll try to keep the grimness down a bit. You'll probably understand where I'm driving the story by chapter 2 I think, and I really, really hate needless amounts of angst so there won't be much of that either.

Oh wait! I forgot. Due to the nature of the Darkness, religious themes are explored in this story, though I'll try to keep it as minimal as possible.

* * *

><p><em>The Earth was formless and void and darkness was over the surface of the deep.<em>

_Then God said "Let there be Light."_

_And there was Light. And God saw that the Light was good; and God separated the Light from the Darkness._

_And the Darkness?_

_The Darkness resented it._

_And so bitterness and spite were born before time itself._

_-Darkness Comics: Empire; Part 1 'Nightfall' Page One_

* * *

><p>It was irritated.<p>

It was surprised that It was irritated, as such emotions would only occur upon meeting any of His servants. The fact that a thing of flesh and blood and crude soul stuff was causing It to feel anything but amusement at their pitiful attempts at existing was surprising. The fact that this surprised It was also irritating, and the fact that It was irritated, irritated It even more. It's own concept of time was limited, or rather, the cattle's point of view of the universe was limited, and the fact that they considered time to be a concept the universe takes with even a stain of seriousness was laughable. As such, It was unsure of how long It was irritated, but was fairly sure it was either a few seconds, or a quarter of infinity.

It felt another tremor through It's domain as the thing pummeled it's hands into the body of it's host. Yes, this was an interesting opportunity indeed.

It was not to interfere, not here, not now. The deal has been made and cannot be undone. On the passing of the cattle's 21st year of life, It would manifest itself and allow the cattle to use It even as It ate at him. Any sooner and any later was a violation of the deal, and the possession of a human child would hurt it, even excluding whatever the Magdalena would do to it should she hear about it. Or the Angelus. The potential gains of this Bloodline, even if they were part of the cult He had spent so much time trying to eradicate, weren't enough to convince it to interfere.

What did tempt It, what made It's entire being sing with dark joy, is that this one was marked by one of His. This one would be an instrument of his will, like the Joan, like the Moses of Egypt, like the human His child had possessed. Upon the conclusion of the cattle's task it would be worshipped and brought up as a standard for all behavior. It's desire to reach into the thing and offer it damnation was strong, and it had never had an opportunity like this before. An opportunity to destroy and ravish his creation like a pedophile in a new born babe's cradle.

And it could feel it dying now, it's little meat stuff and gloriously crimson blood spilling onto the floor. Only a little more until it's soul passed to it, where It could ravish it to It's hearts content.

But doing so would cause the Bloodline to end, doing so would cause it to go out and look for a new host, but that host would not nearly be as excellent as this Bloodline. It looked at the fat man in contempt, and It trilled with delight as the mortal could sense It's attentions on it but ignored it and continued to pummel the child with blades and fists.

Very well. It would try. But It would give it a choice, then, then It would act. But It could not act now, not yet, too direct. It would need to bypass the inherent protection from the host's breeder sacrifice.

Perhaps...yes, yes that would work, would it not? Yes, yes it would.

* * *

><p>He was going to die.<p>

Despite himself and his situation, he had to grin at that.

It wasn't the best way to go, he had to say, but it certainly beat some of the other ways he could have died over the years. Stabbed by the Spear of Destiny. Beheaded by the Angelus. Hunted down and dissected by madmen who wanted his powers. Tortured to death by Voldemort's servants. Tortured to death by Voldemort himself. Tortured to death by Voldemort then strewn up like a sack of pigs guts for everyone to see. A quick, clean death was relatively good, all things considering.

He was fast, insanely fast, by the time he had uttered a spell, the bastard would have countered and fired 3 curses so quickly that he could barely dodge them, and so powerful that any and all magical protection he had on him would just collapse. He could tell too, the bastard was playing with him. He didn't stand a chance.

He was an idiot, that was obvious enough. He just HAD to go and get Lily pregnant. What kind of idiot DOES that anyway? He knew the risks when he had manifested the Darkness. He knew the utter stupidity in giving in to his primal weaknesses. Anti-pregnancy potion my arse, he could tell that the thing inside him probably enjoyed it.

Still, by his reckoning, it had only been fifteen seconds since the bastard charged in here. Considering that the Darkness had left him now, the fact that he was still alive was an impressive achievement. Even if Voldemort was playing wi-

Suddenly, he felt his chest go through the rough equivalent of being run through a shredder and stabbed with multiple white hot pokers. He screamed, he couldn't help it, and as James Potter saw Voldemort approach him and point a wand to his face he could only really think that it was a pretty good run.

And wonder if hell was really as bad as the Darkness said it was.

He looked up at the figure, determined to die defiant to the end, when he realized several key characteristics that he hadn't noticed before.

While Voldemort was clad in black robes that blend in with the night as easily as he might have once disemboweled a man, the figure in front of him was so dark that the light seemed to collapse into it, like a black hole that promised death to everything it touched. Second, while Voldemort's own figure looked skinny and as pale as a seven foot corpse abandoned in the dark, this figure was roughly proportionate to his own, with no hint of anything but darkness inside. Third, while Voldemort's eyes would glow bright red in the night, much like a snake James thought wryly, this figure's eyes glowed with an unholy yellow that made Voldemort's own looked like the pathetic attempts of a goth teenager at 'looking cool'.

That and the crowd of demon things around him with similar glowing eyes should have really tipped him off as well.

Then the thing spoke, the sound of insanity and death gurgling and cackling from it.

"James Potter, we must talk."

It wasn't speaking, not really. What it was doing was repeating the sounds of pain and fear and despair it had seen and heard over the millennia and manipulate it so that it sounded like human speech. That all seemed inconsequential next to the fact that the Darkness reappeared to him again after all these months. It hadn't spoke to him since Harry was conceived.

He reckoned he should take advantage of this.

"No shit you double crossing bastard. First of all though, why don't you go ahead and rip Voldie over there a new asshole or something, yeah?" James responded, as he glanced over to where Voldemort was when he ripped open his torso. Sure enough, the snake fucker was right there, smiling in amusement, and standing perfectly still as well. If he was still capable of walking, he would have walked right over there and kick the grinning madman in the balls, if he still had them, of course.

The Darkness looked at him impassively, and James took the hint and sighed. "Heh, really am going to die then. You're always so serious at times like these!" another impassive stare "Okay...fine, I expected that. What I didn't expect is for why YOU are still gliding around my forsaken ass and not Harry's" the damned man said with enough bitterness to fill the void.

It ignored the rambling of it's previous host and spoke "James, you're son is in danger."

The Potter Patriarch scoffed at that "No shit you retarded goth reject. There's a mad man with magical powers greater than nearly any human currently alive and filled with the murderous intent to kill everyone in this house, and you say my son is in danger? Really?"

The Darkness seemed to bristle at the insult as the surrounding darklings seemed to chatter annoyingly. "I will enjoy torturing your soul for all eternity James Potter, but I am not talking about the now. I am talking about the soon ten years from now, when your son becomes eleven."

James raised his eyebrow at that "Wait, so you're saying my son is going to survive this?"

"Yes."

"How?" and the hard glint in his eye showed why he was ounce whispered among the Death Eaters as Dumbledore's Strong Left Arm.

"That, I cannot say James." it said, using a combination of a man's last screams as he burned to death and the roar of the crowd as the guillotine fell to get it's point across. "All I can say is that his adoptive parents, your wife's sister and her husband, are about to kill him by repeatedly smashing his head to the ground, which will cause a knife to fall from the kitchen counter and stab your son through the stomach. They will then ignore the injury, and will allow your son to die a painful death. Rather, you wife's sister's husband is the one doing this. The rest are merely enjoying the show.

James' face grew into a mask of hate he hadn't worn since the Darkness abandoned him. "Goddammit!" he said, seemingly ignoring the irony of his curse. "I KNEW I should have killed that bastard the moment I saw him!" any further words that would come from James' mouth would ultimately consist of him degenerating into ancient summerian curse words that consisted of them being painfully violated with large spears and be left out into the sun for the crows to eat. He did not doubt the Darkness was telling the truth, if using the truth was easier than telling a lie, what was the use in the lie? Besides, he could not take the risk that It was telling him the truth, and if so, then the blood of his son was on his hands. The Darkness watched on impassively as James began to regain a semblance of his former self.

"So..." James said as he looked at the Darkness questioningly. "Why are you here then? As I recall, you love the way my bloodline is so god damned evil, so why aren't you saving Harry then?"

The Darkness spoke simply, using the screams of Vlad the Impaler's victims to communicate. "I cannot. It will breach the contract, and I allowing control to a pup will cause the Angelus to come for me, even faster and more doggedly than before. I cannot guarantee my host's survival should that occur. As such, I am here-"

"...to ask me to give Harry's soul to you?" James finished quietly.

"Yes." it said, as the Darkness began to walk around James's miserable form. "He and his will not expect it, neither will the Great Deceiver and his. He is ten years early, and given that much time, he will easily survive whatever pathetic thing comes after him by the time he reaches of age. You are dead now James Potter, your son is not, not yet. Give him to me, and he will be far greater than you will ever know."

"So...you're asking me to damn the soul of my eleven year old son so that he'll survive from being beaten to death?" James spoke quietly.

"Not quite. Your son is already damned James, you know this." the Darkness spoke as the screams of the holocaust echoed in James Potter's mind. "All I ask is that you allow him to have the option to use me earlier than his twenty first birthday. It will give him strength, and all you are doing is hastening the inevitable."

James Potter sat there quietly for a very long time. "Fine. But only on the conditions I set, understand? You can have him, but you can only have him the way I SAY you can have him, understood?"

The Darkness thought deeply "Then how will it come to be exactly?"

James Potter smiled and spoke.

The Darkness narrowed It's eyes.

They stood there like that for a very long time, the physical embodiment of all evil and it's soon to be deceased host. The Darkness stood there, a dark mirror image of James himself, quivering with the slightest hint of rage. James Potter, smiling indulgently at It's expense as the Darkness broke it's silence.

"That is a steep price to pay, but I am willing. In exchange though, you must give me your wife's soul when she dies."

"Lily?" James spoke in surprise and not a little bit of anger before he relaxed and said "I don't think she falls into my purview. Considering how she's been holding me back, I'm pretty sure taking her soul will REALLY piss off the Big Man. How about the souls of ever person we've ever killed hmm?"

The Darkness scoffed at that "I already have those little cattle James. Don't play with me."

James chuckled at that. "Fine, fine. How about the souls of every dead person, still on the mortal plane derived from the Potter Bloodline then? I'm fairly sure those are still in the market. I think there's around ten of them hanging around since the deal."

The Darkness looked at him for a moment and chuckled ,a deep sickly sound more akin with a tuberculosis patient than anything else "Ah James, your ruthlessness does bring back so many memories..." and laid out it's hand, well within reach of James' own.

James Potter looked at it and gave off a sarcastic laugh. "You know what? I'm gonna enjoy the look on your face when Dumbledore figures out how to kill you."

The Darkness growled at him then, and James could practically feel it in his bones, like a storm over the horizon. "Do not mock me James Potter. Albus Dumbledore's own innate belief in his own superiority will be his undoing."

James smiled, a genuine smile this time, and reached out his hand to grab that of his dark doppleganger. "Maybe, but then maybe YOUR own arrogance will be your undoing, yeah?"

The Darkness said nothing as it shook hands with it's former host for the last time.

All of a sudden, the world snapped back into place. The pain from his wounds reappeared with a vengeance, and he found himself looking down the tip of a wand as Lord Voldemort opened his mouth to deliver the killing curse.

and though the Dark Lord didn't see James Potter's grin or hear James Potter's muttered last words, he did see his eyes.

They were filled with utter hatred and spite, but a hint if triumph as well, just before they were filled with nothing.

* * *

><p>Life hasn't been kind for Harry Potter.<p>

Truth be told, existence would be a better term for the first 10 years of Harry's life. He was not cared for like other children. He was not taught like the other children. He was not cherished like the other children. He was not lived like the other children. A life would imply a difference between life and death, but to Harry's te-, no, eleven year old mind, death would be preferable.

He knew he was different from other boys, that was readily apparent when Dudley had pushed him into the mud and kicked him in the ribs three years ago. Of course, the children had laughed at Harry then, they always laughed at him, and he had come to the point where he almost convinced himself that he didn't care. Of course the teachers had gone and put Dudley in detention for his act and phoned his foster parents, they were obliged to do so. Of course his foster parents would beat his brains out when he returned home hours later, he had made their son look bad. Harry knew that he wasn't like the other children, he realized on that day that he didn't have the advantage of a loving family like the rest of them, thus, he had a disadvantage in life in general.

Harry knew he was different from the other boys because he would read where they would play. History, science and so much more information was available in his library, where he typically hid when Dudley was in a particularly bad mood. He had picked up a psychology book while he had hid five years ago, and while most of the terms were utter gibberish to the six year old, he appreciated them because it gave a reason as to why his foster parents were like that. Harry was very adamant about it by the time he was seven years old, though he would tell no one about it. Dudley and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were all psychopaths. Or sociopaths, Harry forgot the distinction between the two, but it was better than the alternate answer. That it was all his fault, and his psychology books said that was unlikely, and he held on to the fact that it was the Dursleys fault like a man holds onto a raft at sea.

Harry Potter knew he was different because of all the impossible things he could do. He realized this only when he had foolishly imagined his uncle's mustache was polka dotted color when he and the rest of his foster family were eating dinner and it happened. That was approximately ten minutes ago, and Harry realized something that put a new light in his situation.

You see, Harry Potter, in response to the massive emotional and physical and mental abuses done upon him, had forced himself to become as cold and as logical as he could possibly be. He had learnt early on that losing his temper was a sure fire way for a beating, that crying would allow Dudley and his gang to jump on him, and in response, he tempered his emotional responses accordingly. This was only augmented by the fact that Harry liked to be alone, and didn't speak much to people. He had learnt early on that the only ones that would talk to him were part of Dudley's gang, and were only talking to him to get a rise out of him. No one else really wanted to be involved. Because of these things, he had grown perceptive to accurately predict when Dudley was going to jump him, and as such, he could analyze most situations fairly well.

For example, Uncle Vernon did not ask Harry how he had done what he did, but merely asked him if he did this and, upon getting that confirmation, began beating him. The beating itself wasn't slow and careful or even particularly angry, it was fast, brutal and powered by, and this really surprised Harry, fear.

Then, connecting the dots, he realized that they were afraid of what he had done. That the reason for his horrible childhood, in comparison to other children his age, was because they were afraid of him.

He reflected that it was somewhat useful to know as the punches began to cause him to lose consciousness. From what he had read, it was considered a bad thing if someone died without knowing why.

Which was when he felt it.

It was a difficult thing to explain. The closest thing he could compare it to is the feeling of blood rushing to his head, his vision blurring, and a sense of him falling as the hard floor underneath him gave way to...something else. Harry opened his eyes and took a look at his surroundings.

He was still in the Dursley's household, but it seemed like all the color had escaped from it. Well, that wasn't exactly true, it was more along the lines that the shadows and darkness present in the room was amplified to such an excessive degree that the light inside the house seemed pitifully weak, like a candle in the darkness. The Dursleys themselves were merely standing still, as though time had stopped for them. Uncle Vernon, his pudgy face contorted into a visage of rage as one of his fists were stuck in the air forever, never falling down to hurt Harry. Aunt Petunia, her face showing nothing but contempt as she held onto her son. Then of course, Dudley, his face filled with a kind of sadistic glee, looked on with a stupidly vacant grin in his face.

It can be said without exaggeration that, naturally, Harry Potter is an emotional boy. It is not a theory, or belief, but a fact. The trauma he endured from the Dursleys may have suppressed those traits but, in the end, he was an emotional boy. He felt things very, very strongly, and while it may never show, rest assured, he does feel it. In a way, he was desperate for any kind of emotional interaction, and would jump on the first person to show him kindness, if there was any to show him that. Despite his trials, he still believed in goodness. Not the goodness preached by through traditional means perhaps, but goodness all the same.

Which is why, as he stared at the people who were supposed to love and care for him without question, the people who have abused him completely and utterly his entire life, Harry couldn't help but feel a mind breaking wave of anger and sadness and disgust, though whether it was directed at himself or them was uncertain. Harry, struggling with this strange combination of emotions, did the only thing he could do. He got sick, he got sick REAL bad.

At length, he discovered that he had purged his stomach contents all over his uncle's shoes, and he realized that they weren't fooling around with him then. Those shoes were really expensive, and he knew without a doubt that his uncle would beat the living shit out of him if he had even touched the shoes, much less throw up the spam he had for breakfast earlier.

He crawled away from his uncle then, leaning on the nearby wall and bringing his knees to his chest and hugging them tightly. He was disgusted at himself for his obvious show of weakness, Dudley always took advantage of him when he was like this, and his shivering and shaking caused him to despise himself, but he found he couldn't help himself.

His current situation made no sense whatsoever. There was no real reason for them to freeze up like that, no prior incident that had caused his eyesight to become so strange, no reason for them to let him barf on uncle Vernon's shoes...

"None of it makes sense." Harry said, and he cringed at how pathetic it sounded. "That doesn't make sense at all."

"What doesn't Harry?"

The Boy-Who-Lived jerked up at that, but knew that wasn't his Uncle's voice. It was too strange, too inhumane to sound like him. Besides, he doubted that any of the Dursleys could somehow make it sound as though they were both drowning and sick with tuberculosis at the same time.

Harry paused at that, how did he know it sounded like that? He had never even seen a tuberculosis patient, much less one who was drowning. Overcome with curiosity, he looked up.

The figure he saw was...strange. It was basically the dark outline of a person, a person who seemed the slightest bit familiar. In place of where his eyes should be were two glowing pits of yellow light, reminding him of the giant furnaces the Nazis threw their vic-

Wait, how did he KNOW that?

The figure chuckled then, and the sound was so horrible that Harry Potter closes his eyes and tried to ignore it. He was somewhat successful, but he couldn't block out the thing's next words.

"Oh dear Harry. Look at what those cockroaches did to you. Are you hurt? Do you need help?"

Harry gritted his teeth at the sound. It...it sounded so much like his mother, or what he thought his mother sounded like, or the little memories he had of his mother that always ended with a flash of green li-

He shook the thought away. Those were dreams, figments of a hyperactive imagination. Dreams could not hurt him, getting angry with dreams was irrational. Mocking his with his mother's voice though, that was perfectly rational in it's cruelty. He could tell that it was mocking him, clearly see that the thing was mocking him. Mocking him in his mother's voice. He could normally take those kinds of barbs, but this time he lost it.

"Shut up" he said softly, and the dark figure began to laugh.

"Why should I, son of James Potter? Why should I stop? Because you're hurt? Because you feel bad?" it said mockingly, It's laugh growing more and more inhumane. "You don't have the power to make me, or anyone else, do anything Harry Potter."

He stood up then, unable to take it any more, hands closed in rage. "What do you EXPECT I'm ten years ol-!"

It was at this moment that something came out of the dark and knocked him over. Harry, in the dim light if the room, could barely make it out. It was a small creature, like a rough combination of a hairless monkey's form, the intelligent cruelty of a shark, and the obedience and loyalty of a dog. The thing, and it surprised Harry by having a thick Jersey accent, spoke "Hey punk, you don't get to insult the boss like that alright! Do that again and I'll rip your fucking throat out!"

Harry, by this point, was too frightened to move, and he realized now that the shadows around him were filled with yellow lights. Much the same as the one's above him, and not all were the same as the monkey-shark-dog thing had. Some snake like, some grotesque, some so horrible that his mind refused to process them, but they all had the same yellow eyes. He found himself beginning to appreciate his situation. He was going to die, a comforting thought.

But to his surprise, the shadow man thing sighed and motioned his hand, and the monkey thing quickly moved out of the way.

"You'll have to excuse Benedict over there, he gets rather excited, and even with the chainsaws it is is difficult to control him." the Darkness said, his voice sounding vaguely like a tired pet owner.

Harry shook slightly and resumed hugging his legs. "What do you want from me? Are you here to hurt me too?"

The Darkness sighed and squatted next to Harry's prone form. "Dear boy, I am here to make a deal with you."

Harry Potter turned his head to look at It then, and whispered "What kind of deal?"

"A deal to give you power." the Darkness whispered "A deal for you to never be hurt again. A deal for you to never be beaten by obese failures. A deal for you to be the master of your destiny. A deal-"

"with the devil." Harry finished fearfully.

The thing looked at him and laughed. "I am not the Morningstar Harry Potter. I am not Lucifer. I am not Satan. I am not whatever the nations of the world call him. I am not a demon either, or any servant of his. I am merely offering to give you power to escape your predicament and master your destin-"

"In exchange for my soul." Harry finished impassively.

Harry sensed that, if he could, the Darkness would have raised it's eyebrows. "No you idiot, and I would appreciate it if you would let me finish this time. Good? Very well. No Harry Potter, your soul already belongs with me."

Harry's eyebrows reached his hairline at that.

"...your soul, like that of your father's and grandfather's, like that of your son and your grandson, is already mine. Your Bloodline has harbored me for a very long time. I am merely asking if you would like to use my powers now."

Harry Potter was not an unintelligent child, and he pieced together the dots that didn't make any sense. "But why now? Why at this exact moment? Why ask me if I want to use it, when I had it all along?"

It smiled and spoke softly "Because you are about to die Harry Potter. My hosts typically become aware of me by their twenty first year of life, their coming of age. But you, dear boy, are special. Far more than you know. Since these circumstances are most unusual, I must ask for your permission before I am manifest."

"Then what are you?" Harry asked quietly.

It shrugged.

"Does it matter?"

Harry Potter pondered that. For the first ten years of his life, no one had helped him, no one had cared, and no one bothered to. Now he learnt that he was always damned, that his fate had been decided upon before his birth, and there was no escaping it. He was damned. Indeed, in light of that, is his savior's identity that important?

Perhaps not, but he had to ask the most important question.

"Right now, in our entire conversation, did you lie to me?"

It answered simply "No."

He pressed on, "Are you capable of lying to me?"

"No."

"Since I can't actually prove that, I'll just have to take you at your word, don't I?"

A smile. "Yes."

A frown. "Why am I special."

He could not see it, but It smiled. "Because you are my host Harry Potter. Because you have a great destiny. Because you have the potential to be the greatest of my hosts that has ever lived."

Harry Potter didn't know how long he sat on the ground for, it might have been only for a second, it might have only been for an eternity.

But he could tell that it ended when he shook the thing's hand.

Then time resumed it's constant march.

* * *

><p>I thank you Harry Potter. I appreciate your trust in me, and in exchange, I'll tell you a little secret.<p>

Uncle Vernon looked down upon that wretched bane of his existence with rage and surprise, and was hammered by a wave of irrational fear. What was happening?

Dudley Dursley looked at his cousin with a kind of dulled surprise. Why was he standing up all if a sudden?

Aunt Petunia looked upon the form of her sister's child with suspicion and a growing sense of terror. Surely nothing was wrong?

You had asked what I was, and I said I was neither Lucifer or his minions, and that is true.

Uncle Vernon's eyes widened in fear as Harry Potter's eyes began to glow with a demonic green hue.

Dudley Dursley held onto his mother, more frightened and confused than he had ever been in his entire life.

Aunt Petunia stared at Harry Potter in a near catatonic shock. No, it wasn't possible.

I am not the Devil. I was his teacher.

Uncle Vernon flinched his eyes as all the lights in the room turned off at once. A moment later, he screamed in pain.

Dudley Dursley screamed in terror as he saw the child he had been teasing so mercilessly wave his hand as his father was disemboweled.

Aunt Petunia regained her senses as she began to drag her child away from his father. She would not let her son die.

When Lucifer began to doubt, when Satan began to rebel, he turned to me for guidance, for vision, for power. All the Morningstar knows of pain and evil, he learned from me.

Uncle Vernon looked up into the eyes of his foster son as his life ended. He closed his eyes.

Dudley Dursley screamed as dark spikes stabbed through his father's head from seemingly all directions.

Aunt Petunia screamed as she noticed the pairs of bright eyes approaching her from every direction.

I was the one who made Lucifer fall. I was the one who made Satan what he is today...but I don't think you care, do you?

Vernon Dursley opened his eyes again, and found himself in a barren world that he had never seen before. He was afraid.

Dudley Dursley cowered in terror from Harry Potter as his darklings laughed.

Aunt Petunia begged that she would do whatever he wanted, just as long as he didn't hurt her son.

As long as they pay, as long as they bleed, as long as they DIE, you don't care. As long as I give you the power to shake the very foundations of this world, you won't care. Will you?

Vernon Dursley screamed as dark figures began chasing after him as he realized suffering would never end.

Dudley Dursley screamed as dozens of things descended upon him and ripped him apart.

Aunt Petunia screamed and never stopped.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<br>**  
>Right, I'd like to make this point clear to those unaware about the The Darkness. It is, for all intents and purposes, a gift and a curse. Harry Potter will have access to powers almost as dark, if not more so, than Lord Voldemort's. However, the price in being a host of the Darkness will be such that Harry will resent the embodiment of pure evil hiding in his skull, and attempt to remove or gain more control over it (since he only has minor control over it, and will cause extensive plot points should he try). Rest assured, this won't be a Harry Potter curbstomp fic. He has a long way to go, but I would like to make it awesome all along the way. The fic itself might be really dark for the next few chapters, hence the M rating, but it will get better, then worse, then better again before averaging at grey.<p>

I also realize I'm probably being a bit unfair to the Dursleys but, in all honesty, it serves the story's needs for them to be utter sadistic bastards to Harry. As such, while I do kinda feel bad for them, in the immortal words of something I once recalled watching long ago, I regret nothing! 


	2. Leader of the Light

**Disclaimer: **You really have to take a hint the first time. Not mine, never will be mine.

* * *

><p><em>'Doesn't matter Dumb, doesn't matter at all. We all die eventually, and our lives are always full of suffering. I guess I'm just glad that I managed to do something productive with my life.'<em>

_-George Potter to Albus Dumbledore, 1945._

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore's day, before it had rapidly descended to his worst nightmare, had an air of cautious optimism he hadn't felt in quite a while. Things have been going perfectly for the past few weeks, and Dumbledore couldn't help but feel that the future was finally looking bright again. That the dark storms he'd been fighting for all of his life were finally dissipating into the dawn.<p>

His forays into suppressing Lucius' rampant political ascension had finally born fruit. He had convinced the Wizengamot to reinstate the House of Weasley's status to Ancient and Most Noble once again. He had capitalized on their favoritism to pureblood in general and their belief that Arthur was an easily manipulatable pawn to give the Weasleys some significant power in wizardingBritain again. Dumbledore smiled slightly at that. They may not have the funds or acclaim that a House like, say, the Blacks or the Malfoy's may have, but they had a fierceness and stubbornness that more than made up for it.

He had hunted down a significant portion of Tom's old web's of power and influence in the continent and overseas. His position, or rather multiple positions, had insured that the Veela of France, the Vampires of Transylvania, the Giants of Switzerland, the Centaurs of Greece and the Dementors of Asia would not be part of Voldemort's inevitable second rise to power. Matters were more difficult with the Dark Wizards of Italy, Germany and Russia, but he managed to convince them to not support the next person to be a Dark Lord, by name or deed. A perilous agreement perhaps, but one that insured Tom would not have the same resources he had last time.

The most significant victory though, and one that insured the war would not be nearly as bloody as last time, was the magically binding oath by several of his friends in the International Wizarding Front to quarantine, deny access to or, if need be, kill any one trying to leave Wizarding Britain should Voldemort's presence be confirmed. His influence spreading to the rest of the world would only occur should he defeat every other wizarding nation in the world. He would not be leaving the islands ever again.

But then again, the Headmaster wryly thought, he was becoming much too proud with his accomplishments. There was still much to do, like Harry's return.

Harry's return to the wizarding world was a bittersweet event at best. The return of the House of Potter and the killer of Lord Voldemort would be an incredibly significant event for all involved, both Light and Dark. The Death Eater remnants would be seeking the boy, either as a potential pawn, a new liege, or to kill the boy for murdering their Lord. Not that they would succeed in any case. The Darkness would not allow It's Host to die without a magical relative of the Potters to exist. Besides Harry, every other member of the Potters were dead.

He smiled slightly at that, remembering the last conversation that he and the last Darkness Host had within this very office, the very last one in fact. News of Harry's birth had been widespread among the Order by that point, and James wanted to ask him something that night.

It was an intriguing line of thought, a way to control or banish the Darkness, insure that it no longer posed a threat to the world. One fraught with many, many risks. Many, many obstacles. But the prize in achieving it... They could end the existence of a being that has plagued mankind since it's birth. A great goal. A noble goal.

But one not without risks. The death of Mrs. Lovegood in the pursuit of knowledge concerning the Darkness was a reminder to them all. Despite It being contained within the current host, It still held sway in the deepest, darkest corner of the world. Dark places, with even darker powers where nothing was constant, where everything changed, and where all but the most strong willed individuals would listen to it's dark temptations and fall into madness or evil.

The Lovegood Bloodline was always filled with certain, unstable, mental instabilities. Not insane though, never insane, and never evil as well. Each generation of the Lovegood family has always worked, fought and died for the Light. Their eccentricities were merely a result of several rather unwise attempts in exploring the very fabric of the universe. Doing so would give them rather, special, views on the world they view. As such, they were an excellent resource to the Light, and one he had been proud to stand with against the battle with Evil.

Still, he could not help but feel a massive amount of regret for her death. Her research over the course of a single year had proven much of what they already knew, and told them two new things. That the Darkness' will and power could not be bent to the will of anyone but It's host, and that anyone who tried would be driven insane and kill themselves. Young Luna had the unfortunate luck to have seen her mother's death, and it would scar her for life. Still, faced with the choice of letting her believe her mother had died in an accident and had not clawed her own eyes out with a rusty fork, the answer was clear. He had placed the memory charm himself.

Albus Dumbledore sighed and rested his hands to his forehead. At times like these, he truly did wonder if perhaps he should think of passing on the torch, as they say, to the next generation. Those lies and deceits were becoming far too easy to make, far too believable to most.

He shook his head then, of course he couldn't. As with Gellert all those years ago, he was the only one who could. He resented it sometimes.

It was at this point that the little porcelain teapot on his table, one that he had been watching constantly for the past decade or so, abruptly turned red hot and began blowing out illusionary steam. Dumbledore, momentary startled, reached out for the teacup just before it melted into a pool of molten sludge. Dumbledore stared at it for a moment, before a quick word with Fawkes sent the Phoenix away and the headmaster put his hand in his pocket.

In a moment, he had activated the specialized portkey he always kept close by to bring him to the front door of the Dursley household. Dumbledore nearly staggered at the sheer amount of unfettered evil emanating from the house but ignored any feeling of dread and blew the doors of the house with a quick curse. He quickly stormed the kitchen and froze in shock with what he saw.

Harry Potter was sitting down on the ground, leaning on the wall with the blood of his family covered all over him. Farthest away from Harry, and the closest to Dumbledore, was the disemboweled form of Vernon Dursley, his eyes closed and half his internal organs spilled on the ground. Throughout the remains of the kitchen were pieces of meat that could have possibly been their son if any single part of the young muggle boy's body was cohesive enough to identify. Lying closest to Harry, and wearing a face filled with far too much terror to ever show on a mortal's face was Harry's Aunt, her body cut up into different pieces and spread across the room.

Despite these horrors, Dumbledore couldn't help but notice that all their hearts were missing.

Dumbledore shook his head away from the idle thought and approached Harry Potter. The young boy's eyes were open, and he looked out into the world without truly seeing anything. The headmaster of Hogwarts sighed and cast a charm over Harry's body, knocking him unconscious.

At this point in time, Albus Dumbledore felt the full weight of his 144 years and sighed, placing an arm over Harry's head and muttering softly. "I am truly sorry Harry, I had hoped to shield you from this curse, but I was obviously incapable of doing so. I hope you can forgive an old man's mistakes."

A moment later, he quickly turned around, registering the burst of flame that appeared somewhere around the doorway of the kitchen. Registering the crouched figure's presence, he returned his attention to the unconscious Darkness Host. "It is likely we will need to incinerate the house Alastor."

A creaking noise followed by several heavy steps brought Mad Eye Moody next to the Headmaster. "That's saying the obvious Albus." he said as he poked Potter's unconscious form with the tip of his boot. "I thought James said that he only became a Host when he reached 21. This one seems a bit lacking, don't ya think Headmaster?"

The Headmaster of Hogwarts stood there quietly for a few moments, Fawkes swiftly retiring to his master's side as he did so, before speaking. "I have no idea, this shouldn't be possible. Not once has a Darkness Host ever manifested his power before the appointed time" Dumbledore idly stroked his wand and murmured softly "Perhaps it would be best if we asked the entity itself, don't you agree Alastor? We need the full story of what happened here, and quickly. The muggles will be here soon to investigate the screams, and we have very little time to extract Mr. Potter and eliminating the evidence."

"It'll be dangerous." Moody said, not questioning the headmaster's decision to communicate with a being of pure evil. "We'll need containment wards and ever constant lighting to make sure it doesn't come for us."

Dumbledore nodded and began waving his wand. Immediately, cursed fire began to seep out of his wand and dispersed around the house as Moody took Harry's unconscious body and put him over his shoulder. Seconds later, the entire house was burning, the bodies of Harry Potter's first three victims burning with it, and Harry, Moody and Dumbledore disappeared with a sharp crack.

A split second later, they were at the headmaster's office. Moody put Harry's body onto a nearby chair as Dumbledore instructed the portraits to leave, which they did albeit grudgingly. A minute or so after they left, the headmaster began twirling his wand complicatedly, with Moody following his lead several seconds later as they proceeded to place the necessary wards in place.

The world stretched and warped and grew as the laws of physics were set aside and a new set of rules were emplaced around the boundaries of the office. Blobs of golden light began to appear throughout the room, lighting the entire room in a bright unyielding light. Restrictions were placed around the entire office, denying entry to all but the most skilled wizard or witch. Within the room itself, the two wizards let down their arms and looked on their handiwork.

The previously mellow looking room was shining with the force of thirty floating balls of light strategically placed around the room, insuring that no shadows existed anywhere. Harry Potter's unconscious body was lit by two concentrated balls of light, their light shining specifically on Potter's body, leaving not even the shadows behind his back. Dumbledore looked down at his feet and nodded when not a single shadow could be seen, and with Fawkes' presence on his shoulder, the Darkness shouldn't try anything foolish. He looked at Moody's own feet and noticed no shadow as well. He met the senior auror's gaze and nodded his head.

Alastor nodded gruffly and aimed his wand at Potter's face and whispered "Avada Kedavr-"

The curse never left the wand as shadows from within Moody's right sleeve leapt out and cut the wand in half. To his credit, Moody didn't even flinch as the mechanism within his left sleeve activated and his hold-out wand was thrust into his other hand. He pointed the tip of the wand into the darkness of his sleeve, ready to cast a charm to obliterate the darkness within. It merely laughed, a pair of glowing yellow eyes within the darkness of his robe clearly seen.

"Alastor Moody." the Darkness said "It has indeed been a while since I saw you last. How is the leg?" it began to laugh then, a strong masculine voice quickly degenerating into the throaty laugh of a dying man.

"Not any better because of the retarded piece of dark magic living in my sleeve. Why don't you come out of there and settle this little feud huh?" Moody said, his face turning into a mask of anger and disgust.

"Oh dear Alastor, how I wish I could, but I find the thought of ripping your other eye out and eating your heart to be a far more pleasant altern-"

"Enough of this." Dumbledore said, his face a mask of impassiveness as he interrupted the living embodiment of evil on earth "We need answers to questions your resurgence has caused, such as why have you reappeared NOW, when James said that you wouldn't return until Harry's twenty first birthday. Why?"

It was quiet in the headmaster's office for a few seconds, before Moody cried out in pain and alarm as his body began moving against his will. His feet began to move him towards the headmaster and Moody's hands, the back up wand on the floor and forgotten, reached behind his back to pull up his hood and wear it over Moody's grizzled face, even as the hardened auror struggled against it futily while Dumbledore looked on impassively.

The hood shadowed Alastor's face, acting like a veil and blocking nearly his entire face. The auror stopped moving, staying as still as a statue for several seconds before moving once again. Gone, however, was the man's limp or his careful analysis of his surroundings. Now, he moved with a silky, snakelike grace, and Dumbledore could see the slightest hint of a yellowish hue coming from Alastor's eyes.

"Much better." the Darkness cooed in Mad Eye's voice as it handled the auror's possessed body. "Hmm, is there something you'd like to ask me Albus Dumbledore."

The headmaster, for his part, kept quiet. He remembered his previous dealings with the entity in front of him, and knew it was merely bating him into losing control of his emotions, a death sentence when facing the chaotic nature of the Darkness. So instead, he merely asked, in a quiet, dangerous voice "What have you done to Harry Potter, Darkness before Creation?"

The Darkness cocked Alastor's head to the side in mock confusion "I don't ever know what you mean Albus, I killed the maggot my Host wished to end, I believe that's obvious to you isn't it?"

"Do not play with me. I know the specifics of your curse, and I know that you appear only on your victim's twenty first birthday. Why have you manifested yourself now?"

It remained quiet, watching the old man with some sort of wariness before It began to speak again, It's voice dripping with poison and contempt "The boy was in danger, meat sack. It was likely the cattle would have ended him if I had not intervened. He is much too valuable to lose."

Dumbledore frowned slightly as he took in this new piece of information. "Dangerous. Your deal was created specifically to bypass the natural innocence of children, allowing you to consume them when their innocence would end. Now that you have possessed Harry Potter at such a tender age, as long as he does not consciously make the decision to become evil, and die while he still is, his soul is not yours, isn't it?"

It growled from under the hood. "Your perceptiveness will be your downfall one day Dumbledore. Yes, that is true. He may use my powers and be given a chance of ... redemption. How disgusting."

Dumbledore smiled then "Of course, living in that body must be painful for you, isn't it? All that innocence burning you even as you try to corr-"

The Darkness snarled and raised it's right hand as dark spikes emerged from It's sleeve and leapt straight at Dumbledore. Almost immediately, the spikes began to deform and crumble as it made contact with the blazing light all around them. However, it reached far enough that the tip of one of the spikes broke off and sliced across Dumbledore's cheek, drawing forth blood. The headmaster frowned slightly, and waved his hand across the injury, instantly healing.

"Do not mock me Dumbledore. Never mock me." It said in a quiet voice "I, despite the limitations of my new vessel, am still in full possession of all of my powers. I will show him the true nature of you pitiful little apes, and he will understand. My Host might not fall quickly or cleanly, but he will, you can be certain of that."

Dumbledore nodded and returned to his desk, sitting on his chair and placing his hands firmly on the soft wood. "What do you intend to do now then?"

It shrugged at him as he approached Harry Potter's blissfully unconscious body. "Whatever my Host wishes, for now. I will always be present, in his mind and in his heart and in his soul. Harry Potter will fall into the dark, just like every other member of his family ever has. That, I promise you, will occur, and there is nothing you can do to stop me."

Albus Dumbledore remained seated on his chair, not saying a single word before he sighed. "Very well. I suppose there is nothing to talk about now." and nodded his head to Moody.

Suddenly, the auror's body burst with an explosion of light as the runes the paranoid old man has laced into his clothes activated and let off the closest thing to holy light on the mortal world. The cleansing light of a Phoenix. The Darkness screamed, a horrible sanity crushing scream, as it's presence was viciously thrown of off Moody's body.

Moody shook his head and put his hand to his forehead as he grimaced in pain, stumbling over to where his backup wand and other hold-out weaponry were, while the Darkness screamed in rage. "How DARE yo-"

"Oh sod off." Moody said, his robes glowing with orange-white runes as he grabbed his weapons and turned to face the amused looking headmaster. "You owe me for that Dumbledore, total mental and physical possession isn't the healthiest thing in the world to counter."

"Of course Mad Eye."

"Do you think you can do this to ME! You and your pathetic little twigs and mumbled ape words! Do you think you can stop ME!" the Darkness screamed, a primal, evil sound, as the room reverberated from the fury of It's hate. "Do you think you can hide in your little spotlight forever! I WILL come for you, in your dens and in your beds and I will murder you in front of your loved ones! I will corrupt your so called Boy-Who-Lived and turn him into you next Dark Lor-"

"No, you won't." Dumbledore said, his magically amplified voice echoing across the room and the Darkness seemed to shut up through the sheer amount of the entity's indignation at being interrupted. "I will accept any insult from you but that. I will NOT allow you to insult the Potters that way."

Dumbledore crossed his fingers and put them to the gap between his nose and lips, his eyes cold as obsidian, and continued speaking in a perfectly calm voice. "I knew the Potters, creature. They were the Ancient and Noble House that risked the lives of both themselves and their children, performing a magical ritual to draw you to them in an effort to save the muggle world from your evil. They, when faced with damnation from Heaven itself over their actions, defied the Creator, and struck a deal with you to seal you with them for as long as the Potter Bloodline exists, denying their place in paradise for all eternity. I knew George Potter, who sacrificed his life to allow me the chance to defeat Grindlewald. I knew, George's grandson, James Potter, who was the strongest, bravest man I ever had the pleasure to meet. He stood tall and proud against your evil and temptations, and used your powers to fight another evil threatening to bring chaos and havoc to the world. I knew Lily Potter, who was the kindest, gentlest person I ever met. She tempered James inherent darkness, and insure that while dark, he was never evil. I knew all of these people creature, and Harry James Potter comes from these people."

"I have watched Harry for his entire life, from the moment I dropped him at the doorstep of the Dursley household, to the moment you exerted your will and slaughtered everyone in the house except for your Host. He has endured the abuse of his foster parents, the barbs and blows of his peers, and the apathy, or at least the unwillingness to help, of everyone else he's ever met."

"For all intents and purposes, he had the same upbringing as Lord Voldemort."

"But unlike him, he did not, and excuse me for my use of popular cultural references, 'fall to the darkside'. Indeed, instead of trying to fight or dominate those who tormented him, he tried to understand them! He tried to understand why his foster parents hated him, he tried to understand why his peers abused him, he tried to understand why no one would help him; and considering he is currently ten years old, he has a frighteningly comprehensive understanding of the human psyche. He does not see emotions as a gateway to power, but merely irrational traits in the human psyche that we cannot control. He sees both hatred and love impassively, and tries to understand them, despite their own unfathomable nature."

"And beyond all of this, he still cares. He cares for people, despite them hurting him his entire life. He is hurt that people hurt him, and tries to understand why they hurt him. That, and excuse me for my this, is why you will not succeed in making Harry fall."

"Where you tell him to hate, he tries to understand. Where you tell him to destroy, he creates." Dumbledore lifted his hands then, and a smirk could be seen on his bearded face. "And when you tell him to crush and abuse like his foster parents did to him, he will help them stand up again."

The headmaster could not see the Darkness, the entire room was flooded with light so extreme that the only pools of darkness not protected by Phoenix fire where either on Harry or in between the walls of his office, but those had been warded too, so the only real option was that it had returned to it's roosting place.

Still, that did not stop Dumbledore from thinking that It's laughter wasn't coming from everywhere at once.

"Oh Dumbledore." the Darkness said, as it spoke again with a tone that scratched into your earlobes and took residence in your brain. "You and your ridiculous cattle idealism never ceases to amuse me. You believe that Harry Potter's belief in the goodness of people to save him from me! You fool."

"I have watched your kind from the very first murder and will see it to it's very last breath. I have seen your depravities and your horrors. I have seen your wars and your greed. I have seen your flawed morality and your belief in your own goodness. Your kind is rife with evil and hypocrisy, it was always that way. Your God gifted you with free will, which means that there will ALWAYS be someone to cause evil Albus. Always, and I will be there drinking in it's richness."

"You believe in the goodness of Humanity Albus Dumbledore, and that is only natural. Only two kinds of people think that way, the fools who believe your world is a wonderful place, or those who have journeyed into the abyss and returned with their souls intact. I know you Dumbledore. You know of the temptations of the Abyss, it's marks are left on your faces, the masks you hide behind to deceive yourself that you are a good person. That you are better than Grindelwad. Better than Voldemort. Better than your own animal instincts. Foolishness. Morality was an invention of the fragile human mind Dumbledore. It is not a god given task nor is it a constant in the universe. But enough about the semantics, and back to an even greater mistake than your flawed mental health. Harry Potter."

"Do you honestly believe that Harry, after having no power whatsoever during his first decade of life, will be able to control himself enough to utilize my gift, but not damn him? Do you believe he will not revel in it? Do you believe he will forgive you for his decade of hell? Idiot, you have practically handed him over to me."

"You say that Harry Potter can go beyond his feeble, weak, human origins and resist the pull that I will exert? That he will not succumb to the corruption brought about by the single fact that he, after so long, controls his own life now? That he won't damn himself in order to become more powerful than any being, mortal or not, in existence? That he won't fight this pitiful Dark Lord of yours in order to replace him? Are you willing to risk your plan for a New World Order, risk the souls of everyone in this world, risk your own soul, for the assumption that Harry Potter is a good person?"

Albus Dumbledore remained in his position, not quite so sure as he was before, but unwilling to show it. Nonetheless, the answer he gave was true. "Yes. Yes I do. I believe, in the end and after many struggles, Harry Potter will understand himself sufficiently to save himself from damnation."

The Darkness gave an audible snort as it retreated back into It's host. "Of course he will Dumbledore. Of course he will."

The office remained quiet for a moment, before the lights went out, and a very weary Moody walked towards the Headmaster. "I really rather you not do that again Dumbledore. That thing never took a liking to me and, even if you did need to know why, I'd like to pass the next time you ask me to bait It."

Albus smiled at his old friend and nodded "Of course Alastor, I will try to curb my enthusiasm better next time."

"Assuming that there is a next time you mean." Moody mumbled as he turned his head to observe the still unconscious Potter. "It'll stay like that until he's threatened again right?"

Albus nodded. "Indeed. The only reason It stayed that long out here is probably because it wanted to talk. Perhaps It has taken a liking to us Moody?" the headmaster said, his eyes twinkling as he said so.

Though they never could confirm it later, when they would review the memory in a pensieve, they were fairly sure they heard the words "Like Hell I do." but that was immaterial to the scene at hand.

Moody grunted and said "Like hell it does. Now, what do we do with the boy?"

Dumbledore sobered somewhat and returned his gaze to Harry. "I will talk with him, he deserves to know everything, both for moral and practical reasons. I'm quite certain that, if I tell him nothing, then the Darkness will tell him for me."

Moody nodded at that, and began walking to the door. "Good luck with that. Well if that's all then Dumbledore, I'll take my leave now."

"Well, may I trouble you with another favor old friend?" the headmaster asked, and Moody noted with some amusement that the old bearded one had the decency to look ashamed for this one.

"What is it Albus? And make it quick, would you?"

Dumbledore nodded sagely and spoke. "Yes well, it's just that Professor McGonagall may have overheard the commotion from our little escapade, and is coming here at this very moment...there is no easy way to ask you this but, could you stall her for me?"

It was an interesting sight, Albus thought offhandedly, to see the great Mad Eye Moody look so scared at that moment.

"I heard that Dumbledore." Moody said, with a disconcertingly accurate guess of what he had been thinking. "You owe me big time for this Dumbledore. Big time." those words were closely followed by Moody muttering something about a 'suicide mission' and 'goat fucker' or something or other.

"Would a pensieve memory of Professor McGonagall inevitable thrashing of me when she discovered that I have debriefed a newly awakened Darkness Host, which had just killed his foster family, which also just happens to be Harry Potter, without her knowing it?"

Moody stared at Dumbledore for a moment before grudgingly nodding, though the fact that his magical eye nearly swinging around in excitement gave it away. "Yes, I think that'll do nicely. Very well Dumbledore, you have your man." and with that, he swiftly left the room.

Which left Albus Dumbledore alone with Harry Potter for the first time.

* * *

><p>At this point in time, Harry Potter was very much confused.<p>

He remembered very clearly the beating he had endured from Un-, no, just Vernon now. He also remembered his deal with that...thing that he had encountered, as well as the conversation leading up to that dream. He also remembered the subsequent slaughter of the Dursley Family, the delicious amount of control and power he had felt, as well as the delirious aftermath. He also recalled being dazed and out of his mind before an old man waved a wand over his head and him falling into this formless darkness.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been in what he'd begun to call 'The Room', though anywhere between a single second and most of infinity were acceptable. There was only one metal folding chair under a single spotlight that could be seen. The darkness around him was complete and impenetrable, and every time he tried to run out into the dark he'd always find himself back in that single spot. He was also fairly sure that there were things in the darkness as well, though he hadn't seen any of them. He had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to talk to, and as evidenced by multiple attempts when the silence became too much, couldn't kill himself either. So he did the only thing he could, reflect on what had happened.

After the first few hours, or what he thought were hours, he had come to the conclusion that the Dursleys, having beaten him for the greater portion of his life, deserved what he had done to them. And he had done that to them, no doubt about it. He had held the power in his hands, and such an addictive power it was, and he had used it to end the Dursleys. He didn't need to feel guilty, they deserved it after all! The constricting around his heart had nothing to do with the murders he had committed. Nothing at all.

He had also pondered on why, exactly, he'd been in what could best be described as being trapped inside his own body afterwards. He supposed that the strain from using the thing had caused his brain to go haywire on him. It certainly wasn't because he felt guilty over the Dursleys' murders. He also wondered who was the strange bearded old man who came into his house seconds later and had, apparently, knocked him unconscious. Or he could be dead, but he doubted that very much. Not after all the thing inside him had exerted the effort to save him. Though, in all honesty, the place he was currently in could be purgatory or something. The silence was simply too unnerving for it to be real.

He also knew that the thing he had talked to was gone for some reason. It was still there, and the new part of himself that Harry could now feel was terrifying. It was like a second heart, beating in discord to his own. A dark weight on his brain, like something large and unnatural was just sitting there. Watching. Waiting. That there was a sort of slithering in his lungs, as though a nest of snakes where in there. There were a dozen more places in his body where he could feel something else, and he knew that he could easily phase them out of his mind if he so chose, if he had something to think about, something to do. Hence, him currently thinking about it and not feeling the slithering grasp It had on his mind. He knew, instinctively, that the presence there would grow stronger as he aged or became more powerful, perhaps both. He knew, also instinctively, that he wasn't supposed to know that. That a part of his own nature allowed him to know that, but he wasn't sure what that was exactly. He wasn't entirely sure what to think about that.

But his thoughts always returned to the ever present question. What next? He knew that the old man had captured him. Knew that it was unlikely he'd get away with what he did. So what would he do? He knew that the thing would help him if he asked for it, but some part of him couldn't stomach that. He had always been alone, and asking for help had never gotten him anywhere in life. So asking help now, even if it was to something that was living inside his head, seemed stupid. No, he had to control the situation. Gain as much information as he possibly could and wrest as much control over the situation as he possibly could. He'd been helpless and powerless for far too long. He wanted, no, needed to be in control now.

But only to insure he would never be hurt again, Harry told himself.

So with that, he opened his eyes.

* * *

><p>Blue periwinkle eyes stared at deep emerald ones.<p>

Albus Dumbledore looked at Harry Potter and thought on what to say. He had to tell Harry the truth, or most of the truth anyway. His abandonment to the Dursleys to insure he would not be harmed. The Nature of the Ancient and Not so Noble House of Potter and the Thing that they sacrificed their immortal souls to keep contained. The fact that he had killed the most ruthless, powerful and evil wizard of all time when he was barely a year old. That many of that wizard's followers were out for his blood. That Voldemort would inevitably return one day. That there was a Prophecy. He had to, he knew he had to. The Darkness would pounce on anything he left out and use it to drive a wedge between him and Harry, that could not be allowed to happen. As to WHAT the Darkness knew, not even Dumbledore could guess. Did It know about the Prophecy? If so, he could be assured that It would use it against him. If not, then was it worth the risk to not tell Harry? Was the inevitable backlash he'd receive from him worth it? These, and many other thoughts, were the things rumbling around Dumbledore's mind as he plotted Harry Potter's future.

Harry Potter looked at Albus Dumbledore and saw the calculating look on his face. What was the old man thinking? Was it because he killed the Dursleys? Perhaps, that would be the most obvious thing to talk about after all. He wasn't in serious trouble, that was for certain. Otherwise, he wouldn't be sitting in a very comfortable chair, with a man who could make a run for 'Best Loving Grandfather Pose Ever', and what looked like a burning bird sitting on a perch that hurt his eyes every time he tried to look at it. Still, he'd probably get in trouble because of the murders, and Harry wondered if he could escape from the man. No, that was stupid. He was in his place of power, all the advantages were with him. The best he could do was wait it out and see what would happen. These were the things that Harry Potter thought of as he looked at Dumbledore.

The Darkness looked at all this and laughed. The boy's thoughts were amusing, very, very amusing. The old man's discomfort was also amusing, very, very amusing. The little bird, unaware of the destiny He has placed on his shoulders, flying through life without a care in the world until he was crushed by the weight of his destiny. The old raven, still following a flawed ideology, trying to think of the best method to achieve the best ends, no longer truly caring of the effects on the pawns, as long as the goal was met. Such amusing, amusing little things. Perhaps he should interfere, do as Dumbledore thought he would and bare it all to the child? Perhaps he should stay quiet, make the old man believe he knew nothing of the child's destiny and break it to him years later. Oh the despair that would cause would be so 'delicious'. Perhaps he should kill the boy's friends and puppets? Leave him alone and unwanted for decades until he snaps and his soul was laid bare in all it's glory. These were the things the Darkness thought as he plotted his Host's misery.

Nonetheless, the thoughts were ultimately meaningless without action, and as most meetings that had decided the course of history in the past half century had always began, so would this meeting begin the same way.

Albus Dumbledore smiled warmly at Harry Potter, his eyes twinkling, and offered him a yellow sweet. "Lemon Drop?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

I'd like to counter this before it even begins. The Darkness can bring it's host back to life (and only it's host) so that's actually a canon power. This makes him a bitch to permanently kill, even if it takes a bit of a while. However, consider this. Voldemort managed to fight James Potter on EVEN grounds despite the fact that everything without light is James' forte. And WIN. So, be necessity, Voldemort is even more powerful than canon. Like, Angelus level powerful.

I also find myself vaguely challenged by this story. You see, as the outrageously large amount of stories on this very website shows, I think damn near everything has been talked about already. Every damn idea has been coaxed, beaten or thrown out into the wilderness that is the internet. As such, ideas in this story, though keeping to the general idea of how the story will end; will pick up story ideas and concepts from every other story I think would be useful to Sins of the Father. So really, if aspects of my story are similar to something else, you're probably right. Not because I purposefully go out and hunt down other stories, but more along the lines of idea saturation have reached over 9000 in the HP fandom.


	3. The Not So Noble House of Potter

**Disclaimer**: Neither the Darkness nor Harry Potter series belongs to me. Repetition of these facts are ultimately meaningless except for an exercise on in vocabulary as to how I can say the same thing in as many forms in the English language as possible.

**Advanced Note: **Apologies for this chapter, it was late, and seems the slightest bit incomplete. From my persepective anyway.

* * *

><p><em>'We are abandoned! Forsworn! Nothing you can offer us will ever wash away our shame! We have abandoned our faith, our creator, and plunged ourselves to the depths of hell! Tell me then, what could you POSSIBLY have to give me?'<em>

_-Elizabeth Potter, younger sister of William Potter, the first Darkness Host of the Potter Bloodline. January 12, 1856, an hour before William's death._

* * *

><p>"Who are you? And I don't like lemon candy. They're sour."<p>

Dumbledore smiled genially, shrugged his head, and popped another lemon drop into his mouth. "Your loss then, dear boy. They are excellent confectionaries, truly excellent, and your life would very much be enriched by their presence on your tongue."

Harry grimaced at the small bowl of yellow candy. Yeah, he wasn't missing out on much. "Don't distract me." he muttered petulantly. "Who are you? And why did you kidnap me? Are you going to hurt me? Hold me for ransom? Well I'll save you the trouble, no else will care that I'm alive. So can I go now?"

The headmaster's grin subsided a bit and he looked the boy straight in the eye. He wasn't stupid enough to scan the boy's mind of course, not even for surface thoughts. Harry shared his mind with the Darkness, and peering into THAT pit of madness and evil would do him no good at all. The last time anyone tried Legilimency on a Darkness Host, an oblivious ministry worker who tried to look through James' head, he was sent to St. Mungo's for insanity and a bad case of bleeding from his eyes. Dumbledore found that he really rather liked his eyes.

"I did not kidnap you Harry." Dumbledore said, choosing his words as carefully as he possibly could. "If I had not taken you from the Dursley household, you would have likely been found by the Muggle Authority and imprisoned for murder. The deaths of your family is a significant crime with you as the most convenient suspect after all, even if the muggles won't quite understand how an eleven year old boy managed to pull out her aunt's spine from her mouth. Or at least, what they would think was her mouth."

Harry paled for a moment, and nearly panicked. The man knew! Then he chided himself a moment later, of course he knew. He'd been lying in a pile of blood and dismembered body parts for what must have been hou-

"KILL HIM!"

Harry clutched his hand to his head, the sudden, horrifying noise blinding everythin-

"KILL HIM! DESTROY HIM! HE IS A THREAT TO YOU! END HIM!"

The Boy-Who-Lived clenched his teeth. No, he wouldn't do that. He wasn't that far gone. Wasn't far enough gone to go and murder someone so coldly. Even if he knew something that could be used against him.

"REALLY!" the voice screamed "EVEN WHEN THIS USELESS PILE OF HISTORY HAS SUCH POWER OVER YOU!"

"Yes."

A moment of silence, before a rasping voice answered. "Really?"

Harry gritted his teeth again. "Really."

Another moment of silence

"Well that's a shame." the ... Thing said inside him, It's voice echoing inside his head as though it was hollow. "I've always harbored the hope that my presence in your Bloodline would cause your family to develop a backbone one day. Obviously, nine generations isn't enough." It snickered at that slightly, and Harry could FEEL the madness inside his new passenger.

"What ARE you?" Harry whispered.

It seemed to smile at him. "Your Future. Don't you remember my little tirade as you gutted your family? Or the conversation beforehand? Then again, I would have forgotten as well. The smell of blood is wonderful, isn't it?"

Harry was about to deny it, deny that the blood didn't call out to him, didn't intoxicated him with it's crimson hue, and didn't make him remember it in his memory, when a grandfatherly voice interrupted him. "Ah. Yes. The Darkness has been known to bait It's hosts." the old man pondered "James had always said that It liked to think he was testing them, making then better, that it was for their own good. He also said It thought It's jokes were funny, though James always said they weren't."

"That was because James never had a sense of humor." the ... Darkness said, but It's voice was different now. The voice didn't ring inside his head as though it were an empty cavern, but echoed out, towards the old man's mind. "He never realized the elegance required to send an entire country into chaos and death. Ah, the French were so entertaining."

Harry frowned slightly, his mind going through his history books for the likeliest era his new passenger was talking about. Before he got any further than the French Revolution, though there were other candidates, his thoughts were interrupted by the old man's voice barging into his consciousness. "In any case Harry, my name is Albus Dumbledore, and we're in Hogwarts, which is a school for wizards, and in which I am it's headmaster."

Harry spent a few seconds processing that, trying to look for any angles that he could see, and finally gave up on it. "Are you serious?"

A small smile appeared on Dumbledore's lips. "Very much so."

Harry looked at the headmaster's twinkling blue eyes. "If it weren't for the fact that I KNOW I killed the Dursleys, and I KNOW you saw me kill them, I'd think this was one of their cruel jokes. Then, I could have become partially insane, and am hallucinating this entire conversation. Could you prove it?"

Dumbledore's smile faltered slightly, but he acquiesced gracefully, turning one of the lemon drop's on his dish into a hamster, which he then turned into a cup, then a furry cup, then back into a lemon drop which be popped into his mouth without hesitation. Harry grimaced.

"Okay, you're a wizard." he said, and Dumbledore plainly saw the broiling emotions behind the boy's emerald eyes. So much like his father. He saw too the hint of his analytical mind researching itself slowly. So much like his mother too. He thought he heard something about a 'polka dotted mustache', which Dumbledore could only guess at what the boy did, before Harry turned his attention to the headmaster again.

"So what is this thing inside me, exactly?" Harry asked abruptly, causing the Darkness to snarl threateningly. His face visibly flinched with the sound, but he kept going. "Since you know my dad, and this... Darkness thing said that it had been part of my family for a while, could YOU tell me what this thin is exactly? I need a second opinion."

Dumbledore grimaced slightly, thinking how to explain something like the Darkness to the green eyed boy that resembled his parents so much. He decided to start from the beginning, crossing his fingers in between the depression in between his lips and nose and began to speak, while Harry showed every sign of listening with great interest.

"Your family, the House of Potter, were always an emphatic Bloodline. They saw to it that any problem that came their way which harmed innocents, in whatever way or form, was solved. They had been personally involved in a considerable number of political and social projects for centuries. In particular, they cared very much for the muggles, people without any magical ability, when no one else would. They tried to make their lives as easy as possible. So when they discovered the existence of the Darkness, they acted."

"It is said that before creation, there was only the Darkness. That before earth, before space and time and before the light itself, the Darkness existed. It is also said that when the world was created, and the light was separated from the dark, that the Darkness grew twisted and evil. It had been living amongst the muggles for a very long time, causing the death of It's previous host then moving into the dead man's first born child, were It would typically make itself known by It's host's 21st year of life. It had caused horrendous tragedies, ruined the lives of both muggles and wizard alike, though it frequently left none alive concerning the latter. The deaths of the Immortal Magical Pharaohs, the fall of the Greeks, the destruction of the Sorcerer-Muggle Empire of Rome herself. All of these were perpetrated by muggles under the influence of the Darkness and your ancestor, William Potter, after discovering all of this, tried to stop it."

"William would find the Darkness in 1848, busy spreading chaos and turmoil in the European muggle governments by speaking into the hearts of the populace and igniting their more negative emotions. It was feeding on the chaos throughout Europe, and though those governments were suspicious enough of the sudden revolts to call for assistance from their magical counterparts, they could find no solid lead. William would find the Darkness in Paris, living off a broken host, and spoke to It."

"It's host had no further descendant to continue the Bloodline, thus forcing it to, well, create one itself. From my understanding, William offered another alternative, to live within the Bloodline of the Potter family, or be faced with the destruction of it's host. When the Darkness questioned William on the matter, why not merely destroy it outright, your ancestor had said that it would ultimately be futile. That it would merely keep returning, find another destitute muggle, and use it as a host. This way, William said, the Potter family could keep an eye on It, and insure it caused no further damage. In return, a return that William never wanted, he was given the power of the Darkness, and though he would never use it as much as the rest of his bloodline, he quickly became unstoppable as long as the shadows were with him."

"William always was a self sacrificing fool." the Darkness' voice idly scratched at Harry's mind, "A fool bought in by idealistic promises of nobility and courage. I broke that in him in the end, as I will break you Harry."

"Okay." Harry said, ignoring the Darkness' voice and the fear It had inspired. "What does this have to do with my dad? Like why he and my mum are dead, while I'm alive?"

Dumbledore flinched slightly at the up front question but answered nonetheless. "A dark wizard, one of the most twisted and evil mortals of all time, wanted to take control of magical britain. To accomplish this, he established a group of sycophants, thugs and scum, bounded them to him, called them his Death Eaters, and set about to conquer the wizarding world. His first move was to eliminate the most obvious threat to his power, the Seventh Darkness Host Charles Potter, your Grandfather." Dumbledore noticed the wide eyed shock within Harry's eyes, shock that rapidly receded into a careful blankness. The headmaster continued his tale "With the death of his father, James Potter swore revenge against Lord Voldemort, for that was his name you see, and his followers. He barely managed to survive several assassination attempts by this self stylized Dark Lord, but managed to reach his 21st birthday where he manifested the Darkness. Lord Voldemort would fight both me and your father for several years, until your mother, Lily Potter, became pregnant with you."

The Head of the Order of the Phoenix found himself breathing shallowly. Harry's allegiance, and Dumbledore's own survival, rested entirely upon how the Darkness would react to his next words. "With the power of the Darkness leaving him, your entire family went into hiding to protect you. A friend of your father's betrayed their location however, and Voldemort found his way into your house. He slaughtered your father and your mother, and would have killed you, if not for your mother."

"My mother... sir?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Yes, your mother. Your mother gave her life to protect yours, an act that set a form of magical protection over your body, one that she herself invented. His killing curse rebounded upon your form, killing Lord Voldemort. His body was annihilated, throwing his spirit out into the ether. We found you then, and discovered the blood magic that your mother performed on you. For you see Harry, while the Dark Lord may have been gone, his followers were not, and your life was in great danger. The power that protected you would work best only around those who are related to you by blood, and so, we decided that it was best to leave you with your relatives."

Laughter met those words, and Dumbledore's ears were filled with the sound of mocking, caustic laughter. The Darkness' humor seemed to reverberate around the room, darkening the office and making the light around it seem weak and left in comparison. Dumbledore ignored this, having been familiar to it due to his close friendship to Charles, and his mentorship of James. No, he focused on Harry.

Harry himself seemed ... calm. Too calm. His face and the rest of his body language showed no shock, anger, rage or resentment that Dumbledore expected would come from the news. In contrast, the chaotic energies whipping around the young man which, Dumbledore was fairly certain, was a result of uncertain emotions. Abilities powered by 'purer' and more certain emotions like rage or dear would typically be sharp and focused, the chaotic nature of the Darkness controlled by It's host's will. This was a constant, and though Charles' focused more on his ability to be everywhere at once through the use of shadows, James' own preference for using his powers to construct the most odd creations, and all the other Hosts he'd met, befriended, fought with (or against), that was a constant. The destruction occurring around his office right now, the tendrils of power ripping ragged molten white streaks across his walls, the Darklings appearing and disappearing at random, the psychic attacks against his mind of varying strength, the dull emerald light emanating from his eyes, all of them had the obvious sign of the sheer anger, the loss, the pain and love currently inside Harry. Despite of the immense danger he was in, for he of all people knew the true power of sheer uncontrolled chaos, Dumbledore smiled. The Darkness would not be claiming Harry so easily.

Eventually, Harry seemed to calm down. The tendrils of darkness around him seemed to stiffen and curl around him, like an appendage at rest, and disappear into his body. The darklings disappeared completely, cackling one last time at Dumbledore before disappearing. The psychic attacks seem to spike into one last, incredibly painful sting before disappearing completely, and the dull emerald glow of an eternally malicious being disappeared from his eyes and was replaced by the watery eyes of a sniffling eleven year old boy. Dumbledore's heart nearly broke at the sight, his cold concentration slipped and he felt his emotions reassert itself for a moment, no boy should hold the power of the Darkness, and he had only his creed to balance him. For the Greater Good. For the Greater Good. For the Greater-

"-Good sir?" came Harry's shaky voice.

Dumbledore froze and refocused. He could hear the Darkness' laugh again, could see the expression on Harry's face, and he cursed himself. Calm. Control. Stoicism. No emotions, none at all to destabilize one's center of mind, or risk gigot access to the Darkness. He had learn that from George, and as the key to fighting the Angelus was to be in a constant state of chaotic emotions, the key to fighting the Darkness was to not give It a single inch. He would have to do better next time.

Of course, he knew why the Darkness entered his mind and showed it to the boy. It would mean that whatever trust he'd have gained or will gained towards the boy will always be tainted by what he'd heard inside his mind. That Albus Dumbledore would, if the opportunity presented itself, sacrifice him if it meant that the 'Greater Good' would be achieved. The manipulation tasted bitter, made only worse by the fact that Dumbledore would do it, if required, though he would forever hate himself for it.

"I think I understand now sir." the boy answered neutrally, and Dumbledore had to consciously suppress his anger at the Darkness for interfering. "But may I ask you a question."

This surprised the headmaster of Hogwarts, but he was all to eager to answer. "Yes my boy, anything you ask.

"Why did they call themselves the Death Eaters?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised slightly at the strange question, but his inner academia was urging him to answer. After all, it was a rather innocuous question was it not? Yes, there was no harm in answering at all.

"You see Harry, the Death Eaters were not always known as such. Before that, they were known as the Knights of Walpurgis, and their desires for a pureblood wizarding nation were more akin to a political organization than the terrorist group that the Death Eaters were. They eventually became terrorists when their demands became too extreme for the Wizengamot to ever grant. Lord Voldemort would reforge them to their new purpose, but their name changed only with the successful death of a single person." Dumbledore looked at Harry significantly "Your father, James Potter."

Smiling slightly at Harry's gobsmacked expression, he continued. "James Potter's 21st birthday was marked by five events. The coming of his birthright and becoming the Eight Darkness Host of his family, rather eagerly, I might add. His location being discovered by a small sect of dark arts worshippers who wished to take his powers. They were dealt with by James' newfound powers. Being discovered by the Magdalena of that era, whom he managed to force into retreat. Being discovered by the Angelus, whom he managed to escape from. Then being killed by the Knights of Walpurgis, who stumbled upon him by accidentally bumping into his frenzied attempts at escape, and killed him with a decapitation curse without realizing who, or what, he was."

"I had told him afterwards that he was an imbecile." the Darkness whispered contemptuously. "I have never had a Host that went and died on me not thirteen minutes after his ascension."

"James soul was whisked away as the Darkness began work on rebuilding his body, and the Angelus lost his scent. She worked off her frustrations by slaughtering the Knights of Walpurgis to unprecedented numbers." Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "Of the 30 Knights who were present at the time, only four survived. One by apparating as soon as he saw what appeared to be an avenging angel of Christian mythology coming towards him. Two by being knocked unconscious and barely surviving their nearly fatal injuries. And another by ruthlessly sacrificing the rest of the Knights to weaken the Angelus before forcing her back by sending a highly creative Entrails Strangling/Exploding curse at her. (the Darkness snickered at this) The Angelus had to retreat before her Host could die, and by all logic, the Knights survived the blinding rage of the Heavens, and killed the undying wrath of Hell. So eight days later, they rechristined themselves into the Death Eaters, due to the fact that they defeated the closest thing to pure evil on this world. Of course, they were unaware of the fact that the Darkness could bring back It's hosts if It so chose. They learned their lesson when James regenerated 8 months later, and beat the Angelus' high score on Death Eater kills. The Angelus hersel-"

"Sorry professor, but I think that more than answers my question." Harry said, trying to suppress what might have been a juvenile grimace. Dumbledore chuckled at that, only stopping when he heard Harry's next words.

"Is he still alive?"

The Supreme Mugwump swallowed, his throat suddenly seeming dry at the moment, and managed to gasp out a fairly neutral "Who is my boy?"

"Voldermort sir. Is he still alive. The... Darkness says that he's still alive, and I would like to know from you if that's true."

The dryness from his throat seemed to expand to his mouth, and Dumbledore furiously tried to think of an excuse, a lie or any kind of deception that would mean Harry did not hear of the prophecy. It was _too soon. _He had failed James and Lily. Used them as well and as much as nearly any other person alive. He _owed _it to them to give Harry at least a reprieve from his destiny. He had made a mistake with the Dursleys, that much was evident, and he really should have gone with the suggestion of keeping the family in a state of stasis inside whatever house he could have given Harry. It would have made him happy and well protected, something that should have happened in the first place, and one that he was willing to do had no other choice been possible.

Which was when it struck him. One of the last lessons he had learned from Nicolas before Charles had killed him. The truth was far more deceiving than the lie, and far more effective.

"Yes Harry, he is still alive out there, somewhere."

A pause. "I see."

Harry sat there on his chair for several more seconds, and Dumbledore truly felt more miserable in his entire life, even when he fought Grindelwald and watched George Potter die by the hands of the Magdalena not several seconds afterwards. Not even _that _was as pointed or as painful as the sheer misery and failure he felt at that moment.

"One final thing Professor."

Dumbledore forced himself to answer "Yes my boy?"

"I've read that particularly old families have coats of arms and family mottos or things like that. I was just wondering, does the Potter family have that? I'd understand if my family doesn't, but I'd like to know if we did all the same."

Dumbledore felt a sort of tightness in his chest before he answered. "Your family never had a real coat of arms, the Potters never really feeling the need for it. However, your family DID have a family motto, two in fact. One from before the Deal with the Darkness, and one afterwards."

Harry frowned at the news but nodded. "What was the one before the deal?"

"Apudne Te Vel Me. Roughly translated as 'Your place or mine?' ... the Potters were " at Harry's uncomprehending look and, what he imagined, the Darkness' own mocking laugh, he backpedalled quickly. "Er ..., perhaps I will clarify it for you when you're older, alright Harry?" Harry, for his part, simply nodded his head and dismissed the matter from his mind like a typical eleven year old would, and Dumbledore could breathe

"And the one after the Deal?"

Dumbledore stiffened somewhat, and he gave a sad smile to the young man. "Exitus Acta Probat. In plain English, it is translated roughly into 'the Ends Justify the Means'."

It was at this point that a sound strangely similar to a man's deathcry sounded from the bottom of the staircase, closely followed by what sounded like an exploding gargoyle and an almost panicked charge up said stairs. Several seconds later, the doorway barged open, showing a somewhat imperious middle aged witch with an air of pure, bloody murder around her. She glared at Dumbledore with a strange combination of outrage and malice, which Harry found both funny and terrifying at he same time. Dumbledore himself looked appropriately guilty at the woman, who despite capable of being the old man's daughter, seemed almost like a mother towards the headmaster. The atmosphere was such that Harry found it difficult to decide whether to laugh or run, though the Darkness had no such hesitations.

A sound comparable to the stuttering shriek of a car crush echoed across the room. "Oh Dumbledore! The great and mighty Dumbledore bowed low in obedience from that little whelp of a bitch. Oh how glad I am to see you live long enough to get to see the Vanquisher of Grindelwald brought so low "

The woman threw a dangerous look towards the general location of the noise, which happened to be Harry himself. Harry momentarily knew true fear before taking control of himself, though nit before shivering noticeably at her steel glaze. Strangely enough, the woman seemed to balk at seeing him, her eyes widening and her fearsome stance dissipating somewhat. She coughed slightly, more for herself than anything else "Hello Mr. Potter, would you kindly step out of the office for a moment or two, I must have a _word _with the headmaster over certain living conditions of one of our students." the strange catlike lady said, in a voice not altogether out of place in a classroom, her eyes flashing towards Dumbledore as she said it. "You are free to walk about the Castle grounds, but take care not to go into the forest. Our caretaker their, Hagrid, would be willing to take care of you if you pass by his cabin at the forests' outskirts, unlike some similarly bearded fellows with even less sense than him."

Dumbledore flinched noticeably and gave Harry a small smile. "You may go now Harry. While I understand that you may be feeling the slightest bit skeptical over what has happened to you so far, I believe the castle would make you change your mind."

Harry's face transformed into a kind of frown, but nodded anyway and moved towards the door. He muttered what sounded like an 'excuse me' to Minerva as he passed, and closed the door behind him. It remained quiet for a few moments, until he sound of footsteps dissipated and Harry was gone.

At which point, Dumbledore would dearly miss the quiet.

* * *

><p>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was largely accepted to be one of the greatest magical schools in the world. A magical fortress turned school by four of the most skilled and powerful magical users in wizarding history, beaten only by the Great Warlock Merlin, the Russian Royal Magician Rasputin, the War Wizard Leonidas, and half a dozen more prominent wizards renowned in both the muggle and wizarding world. It held enough power behind it to wipe off Great Britain, and some of France and the Netherlands, from the map, though much of that energy and potential was locked away by the Founders to minimize the chance that such an event would occur. The sheer amount of magical energy pouring out of the castle, and the sheer grandeur of the castle, was enough to impress Harry Potter, despite his incredibly bad mood. Predictably, the Darkness wasn't the least bit impressed.<p>

"Pathetic." the embodiment of all evils in the world said. "It hasn't changes at all. Two decades away from this pitiful wellspring of hedge cattle power and it remains as stagnant as it was then. Pathetic."

Harry himself thought that somewhat strange. A castle that had been standing for centuries can't be expected to change in the span of a few decades. Then again, It was normally dismissive and filled with contempt at nearly everything he had seen so far, so that might just be It talking normally, though it DID seem even more pissed at the castle than anything else though.

The Darkness snorted, and the impression of a man's head exploding was made. "Stagnancy and Decay. They are content with the way of things and are reluctant to change that. The ways of cattle and fools, as is the way of the Angelus. Change is inevitable. Their little world will topple around them, one way or another. If I am contemptuous at what these fools strive to protect, it is only because they are fools to protect them."

Harry jumped at that. "How did you know what I thought!"

He had an impression that his parasite was amused. "I live inside your head boy. Any thought you have is a thought I have. Any plan is my plan. Every impulse my impulse. Hiding your thoughts from me is as pointless as running away from the constant that is Death."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that, and couldn't help but mutter. "Like Voldemort?"

The blackness in his mind smiled. "Exactly."

Harry nodded and eventually collapsed into his bad mood. That was bad. If he fell into a bad mood, then he'd become angry. If he became angry, then he wouldn't be able to think logically. If he couldn't think logically...then, what did he have left?

He heard the Darkness snicker in his head. "You always have me Harry. I'll always be with you." Harry ignored it. He couldn't say anything, do anything, until he had settled everything in his head. Lists were very useful for that.

One, he was a wizard. Relatively easy enough to understand, and easy to believe since turning a mustache into a colorful shade of polka dots isn't a common thing, to Harry's knowledge anyway. He was smart enough to know how incredibly massive the consequences of what happened earlier tonight was, but he extricated himself from his actions and continued thinking.

Two, he was a Potter. He had already known that he was a Potter of course, but he didn't know that the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, which he was now apparently the Family Head of, had pledged their entire Bloodline into the containment of the Darkness, which led to...

Three, he was a Darkness Host. This basically meant that, besides having the living embodiment of evil living in his skull, he was virtually invincible in the dark. At least, that was how Dumbledore seemed to understand it. He probably didn't know as much as he thought he did, or was deliberately misinformed (he heard It laugh then) so he should figure out just what he could do, without their 'supervision' as they had put it.

Fourth, the most evil wizard in recent history, the Dark Lord Voldemort, killed his entire family in an attempt to kill him. Reasons for this was unknown, and the fact that he was alive was considered a miracle to the wizarding world. His abilities were powerful enough that, when faced with a fully realized Darkness Host, he not only managed to survive, but was able to drive his father (wow that was so hard to say) back.

Fifth, he needed to be educated as a wizard. Hogwarts itself would be the most logical place, as he was already enrolled in that place, and it was a given that Dumbledore and his men would want to keep an eye on him. The old headmaster's worry towards Harry was clear enough.

Six, the issue with the headmaster. The man was friendly enough, but the fact that he had revealed that he was the one who sent him to what could best be described as a living hell with the Dursleys proved he wasn't a saint. Yes, he did have a point with the blood protection, he would be an idiot not to, bi that didn't mean he had to take it lying down. He was an ally true, but one with his own agenda, and a willingness to finish that agenda no matter the cost. He had to be wary of him.

The Darkness interrupted his thoughts, slithering within his skill and softly whispering. "That's it?"

Harry frowned and nodded, though the gesture was completely useless, considering what he was talking to.

"This man deposited you, a pup without even the capability of self awareness, to a family that hates your cult, hates your forbearers even more, and hates you the most? He had said that he was perfectly aware with your treatment, and that's all you feel towards the man. That's it?" the Darkness asked, It's voice whispering in his skull, sparking a strange, unknown emotion within him, one he always kept as deep within himself as he could. Hatred.

"The cattle abused you, hit you, made them serve you like a pathetic peasant. They hated you with every fiber of their being, made your life a living hell for a decade. They had committed horrible crimes upon you Harry." It whispered "and you made them pay for it."

"Now you are allowing the man who damned you to that hell walk away free? That he will get away with what he had done to you without him paying for it? Are you afraid? Afraid of his power? Afraid of touching the power that you held, the one that ended the fat cattle that thought they could use you however they will? Are you regretful that you used your power? Regretful of killing them?" It laughed cruelly then "Are you weak?"

Harry gritted his teeth, and spoke with a voice shaking in rage. "I am NOT weak. I know what you're doing, and it won't work on me."

While he trusted Dumbledore nearly as much as he could throw him, the wizened old man had explained his predicament, with large amounts of written proof, the Darkness' grudging confirmation and a trip into something called a pensive or something. He had seen his own father (and he really didn't know how to feel about that, so he decided to ignore the feeling for the time being) explain the curse to Dumbledore, and had seen through the old man's memories how his father had fought. While he did not know everything, as he could tell that his father had kept some things to himself, he knew enough that the Darkness was dangerous. That the more you succumbed to It's temptations, the more his mind, body and soul would no longer be his.

He could hear It chuckle in his head. "Oh dear Harry, whatever do you mean? All I ever did was ask you why the old fool who condemned you to hell isn't dead by now. You have the power to do it, all you have to do is to grasp it in your hands and kill him, just like you did the Dursleys."

"Even if I had the power to kill him, Professor Dumbledore has decades ahead of me, I doubt that he'd calmly offer lemon drops to me if I try to kill him. Besides, I DON'T want to kill him." Harry scoffed, still aware of how he was being manipulated, but unable to hold back his anger.

"And I'm ahead of him by trillions of years, I doubt he can overcome that."

Okay, that was it. "I don't WANT to kill Dumbledore okay! He had a point, the blood protection would have helped me, but it's gone now, and he can't send me back to the Dursleys! Yes, he might have sent me to them under the assumption they'd be loving, caring parents, but at least he had a logical REASON for doing so, and didn't hurt me just for the hell of it!

It was silent for a while, and then It spoke again. It's voice was soothing like red silk, but the underlying promise of blokes kept Harry on his toes. "Very well Harry. What do you desire?"

"I think," he said carefully, picking his thoughts with care "that it would be best for me to gain a foothold into the wizarding world. For me to do that, I'll need Dumbledore's help. Can you help me with that?"

Harry couldn't help but shiver as the Darkness responded.

"Of course Harry." It whispered, "Whatever you desire."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

There might be questions as to why the Darkness, compared to his video game and comicbook form, is a lot more talkative now. Well, the simple fact is that the Darkness has somewhat gotten used to the Potter Bloodline, which as you've read was REALLY Noble before the deal. The Darkness has been waging a short, for it at least, campaign of corruption against the Potter family, and it's been marginally successful. (Successful on the short term, every Darkness Host has had SOME kind of darkness in their soul. Abysmal in the short term, as it seems that goodness is partially genetic) Of course, you can't cause someone to fall unless you're cunning and talk well can you?


	4. The Weaselys

**Advanced Note:** Two things to be eh, noted for this chapter. First, reason for not updating this story is the same for every other story I haven't updated recently, I was doing a lot of stuff basically. Two, this is the second draft for Chapter 4 actually. The other draft just wasn't working so I booted it up to later in the time frame and it'll show up in the future at some point. Besides that, all is well, trying to set up my normal rhythm for updating, hence why this chapter is smaller than the others, I'll make up for it in the future tho. See you next time.

* * *

><p>'<em>There's a danger in this course, I know there is. The Darkness is not a thing to be trifled with, but we have no choice. <em>

_We were lucky, we were very, very lucky. Do you know the amount of dark essence that the age of industry has wrought from the muggles? Do you know how much the Darkness **feasted **upon that unholy power even before I found it? The host It had found was weak and pliable, a mere conduit for meaningless destruction, what more could have been wrought had the Estacado line survived? If a family as bloody as that had come to possess the Darkness in a time like this, the destruction would have been monstrous._

_Yes dear sister I am well aware that I and my sons and my grandsons are forever consigned to the dark places. No matter your own beliefs on the matter, heaven or reincarnation or what have you, the Darkness will never let us go. It will feast upon us for the rest of eternity, long after the final light in the sky has dimmed. I am aware of all of it. The Darkness haunts me with visions of those everyday._

_What right do I have? Because I choose to, obviously. I don't expect forgiveness from my offspring or understanding from the rest of my family, but I expect my orders to be obeyed. The Darkness **will **stay within our family. The Darkness **will **be contained. My word on that is final.'_

_-William Potter, the First Darkness Host, mere hours before Elizabeth Potter enacts a pact with the Angelus_

* * *

><p>The decision was not made lightly, and Alastor had made a very passionate, if somewhat insulting, argument on why he had to have gone senile to suggest it. Had Dumbledore any other measure to turn to, he would have agreed. As it was, there was literally, no one else he could trust with Harry, despite their own misgivings of the Potters. The Longbottoms were no more, and while he did trust the cunning old lady that now held herself as the head of the family, he could not trust that should Voldemort's remnants turn against Harry that the Longbottoms wouldn't be completely annihilated from their assault. The Lovegoods was also a distinct possibility, as they were eccentric and had built themselves multiple places abroad and did not communicate much with most other wizards. On the other hand, after he had willingly thrown their family into the jaws of the Darkness, he was not willing to do so again lightly until he had no other choice. Lupin, of course, would have been delighted to have him, but his own status as a werewolf took him off the list completely. Beyond the obvious threat of having an active werewolf around Harry so often, Dumbledore could not begin to comprehend how the Darkness would delight in ripping that poor man's soul into pieces, and so had decided not to. Many other members of the Order would have had the same willingness as well, but he needed Harry's retrieval to be a secret for as long as possible, even from the Order. This, of course, left only one family loyal to Dumbledore, willing to take care of Harry for the moment and would have died rather than betraying a secret meant for them. The Weaselys.<p>

A perfect choice, in an alternate universe anyway.

These, and many other thoughts, came through Dumbledore's thoughts as he sat with Arthur and Molly Weasely in the Burrow. The living room had been cleared out by the stern word of Molly, and the younger ones, Ronald and Ginny, were out in the gardens. Percy, delighted that the headmaster would visit his home, followed his mother's orders to the letter and stayed in his room, studying his lessons. Fred and George were, obviously, trying to listen in, but a quick and silent spell from the headmaster had kept the boys from overhearing any word through the value of the mortal senses no longer registering the existence of a living room in the first place.

The conversation had been pleasant enough. He had caught them at a good time, Molly had said, as Arthur had come home early, his supervisor having done so for his excellent work recently, which Arthur beamed at rather proudly (it had taken Dumbledore only a little bit of persuasion to have gotten the old Giacchino to give Arthur the day off). Arthur himself had been using the time both with his family, and tinkering with the his own muggle contraptions.

He had been listening to Arthur's impassioned rant about erodynamism and how it helped the muggle aeroplanes in their ability to fly without magic when Dumbledore coughed politely, and steered the conversation to more assailable grounds.

"Hmm. I didn't quite know that the things could contain pressure like that Arthur." the old headmaster smiled genially, with Mr Weasely himself beaming at someone being interested in his work, while Molly merely sighed exasperatedly at herself. "However, I have not come for entirely innocent reasons, business calls for me, as it were."

Molly laughed gently at that. "Oh Albus, it's perfectly alright. You're a busy man after all, what with all your titles and responsibilities. Goodness, I can't imagine getting those dusty old coots at Wizeangamot to do anything! Let alone with the progress you're making."

He chuckled at that. "Oh I don't know Molly, with how you handle your children, I wouldn't be surprised if you whip them all to shape in a month. As it were my dear, I've come to business in my capabilities as Headmaster, nothing quite so grand as Chief Warlock or Head of the Wizeangamot."

"Really Albus?" Arthur began, looking puzzled. "Nothing quite comes to mind wh-"

"It's Fred and George again isn't it?" Molly asked, her features darkening into a rather savage mask that promised only pain and maternal induced terror. "Oh what did I tell them! No trouble in Hogwarts! What did they do this time? Was it the pigeons? I _told _them to destroy all of the-"

"Molly, Molly, it is perfectly alright." Dumbledore spoke as he smiled genially. "Fred and George, to my knowledge at least, has yet to do any harm to the Hogwarts staff, their schoolmates or the castle itself before the start of term. No, I've come to ask for a favor, a rather large one actually."

At the couple's concerned gaze, the headmaster cleared his throat slightly as he began. "There is a boy who has recently gone through a most terrible incident, his foster parents had been killed in an incident involving dark magics, and his biological parents have been long dead. Alastor was nearby on the scene and apprehended the one responsible, but the boy himself is now without a home. Alastor then brought the boy to me, as his parents and I had been friends before their unfortunate deaths, and I have taken it upon myself to secure permanent lodgings for him. Until such a time may come, I must ask if it was possible that the boy were to stay with you until September, wherein he will be joining Hogwarts, as his parents have also enrolled him into the school."

All true, to a certain extent. Dumbledore thought rather grimly. The Weaselys didn't need to know that Harry was now an active Host, or that he already, consciously or not, killed his foster parents in a fit of rage. They could not know the facts now, if ever.

Molly gasped at hearing Harry's story. "Oh that poor, poor child. Of course he can stay with us for a while! It's no trouble at all, no trouble at all! After something that terrible, a nice, stable family is just the thing he'll need!" she said with a tone both gentle and savage, her mothering instincts such that Dumbledore toyed with the idea that she would take the child herself if he would change his mind.

Arthur chipped in his own thoughts. "I second that headmaster." He said rather firmly "The boy has gone through an unfortunate tragedy, it would unconscionable for us to refuse. In fact, if after this year you still haven't found a place for the boy, he could stay with us on a more permanent basis."

At Mr. Weasely's declaration, and Mrs. Weasely's subsequent nod of agreement, Dumbledore spoke hesitantly. "Yes well...it's rather difficult for me you see. The child's identity might make things problematic for the both of you."

The Weasely matriarch rose her eyebrows in skepticism at him then, with Arthur's own face turning into a confused frown. "I trust that you don't think we're a family of prissy purebloods do you Albus?" Molly said with just a hint of scorn there. "The boy has lost nearly everything, I can't imagine the kind of pain he must be going through right now. It doesn't matter who his parents are or if he's a pureblood or whatever else, the boy needs help, no matter who he might be."

Dumbledore grimaced. "Even if that boy was Harry Potter?"

The reactions on both of their faces were enlightening. Molly's eyes widened a great deal, shock being dominant for a split second before they narrowed in thought, tear ducts reacting somewhat as she purses her lips begins nibbling on them lightly. Her posture changes subtly as well, becoming more fluid, less energetic, as though some of the fight got kicked out of her. Arthur's was far more apparent, his hand clenching, the nails biting into his pants as he grits his teeth for a moment before unclenching them, having taken notice on his unconscious reaction and seeking to correct it. Still, it wouldn't have changed his eyes, fierce and combative, nor his posture, which had gone stiff, as though readying himself for a fight.

They were silent for a while, and Dumbledore distracted himself by watching Ron and Ginny outside. In truth, he was surprised that they weren't trying to easedrop on the conversation like Fred and George had. Ginny had always struck him as the mischievous type, then again, her parents having a meeting with the Headmaster of Hogwarts might have cowled her into not daring. Then again, he would have expected that to enflame her curiosity even further. Same with Ron really, tho less due to mischievousness and more due to general child-like principle.

At which point Ginny's eyes moved towards the window, her bright green eyes meeting his cold grey ones. She made an almost audible 'eep' as she quickly turned her gaze away and started to look a bit panicky.

Panicky?

"You ask a hard thing from us headmaster." Arthur began, causing Dumbledore's focus back on the matter at present. "You know exactly what kind of curse the Darkness brings. We've heard about the Lovegoods."

Dumbledore nodded regretfully. "A tragedy, I know, I know. The past two Hosts have, consciously or not, brought your family only grief. Charles Potter was a monster, and James couldn't control It at such an early stage. I'm so sorry, but...you're the only ones I can trust."

Mr. Weasely's face turned into a deep scowl. "Merlin's beard Dumbledore, the massive gall you must have to do this? Yes, he's a boy, but he won't be a boy for much longer with the that evil thing living in his skull!"

"Hush Arthur." Mrs. Weasely chided gently, tho her face did too have a certain amount of anger in it. "Harry IS a boy after all, you remember how happy Lily and James were when they had him? He was such a happy little baby. He hasn't been influenced by his family like Charles was." she said, almost spitting out the name in disgust, though it softened itself at her next words. "Harry isn't like that, I'm sure."

"No one is like Charles Potter." Arthur said darkly. "That man was a monster living in human skin. Merlin's beard, if You-Know-Who did a single good thing in this world it was killing him before he could any more harm."

"Indeed he's not." Albus spoke quickly. "Despite his own living conditions, he has grown up to be a remarkably pleasant boy-"

"Living conditions?" Molly interrupted sharply. "What living conditions? I was under the impression that Harry was well taken cared off?"

Dumbledore grimaced. "Yes...well. I was under that impression too."

The moment of silence that came afterwards as Mrs. Weasely stared at Dumbledore with such pure rage would be enough to hear a mosquito cough. The headmaster of Hogwarts, who had faced off against Lord Voldemort, Grindelwald and Seven generations (not including Harry) of the Potter line in all of it's greatness and evil, looked down in shame. He knew he was in the wrong, and despite Molly not knowing all the facts, she _knew _he was in the wrong as well. Harry's upbringing was a huge mistake. If it had worked out, any foothold the Darkness would have found at Harry's coming of age would be so minuscule as to not exist at all. Now, the boy had a horrible upbringing, was emotionally detached about himself while remaining astonishingly intelligent for his age, yet still retained an understanding of the word empathy. Such a combination had led to both heroes and villains in history, but the fact that the Darkness possessed him now meant no happy ending to Harry's tale. The worry and self-loathing at himself for such a disastrous miscalculation was enough that, if Molly had deigned to turn his beard into a purple grapefruit and eat it in front of him, he would have let it happen.

Not that it would distract him enough to dryly remark to himself that the last person to make him feel this horrible about himself was Molly herself, so many years ago, when she was even younger and more fierce than she was today.

Mrs. Weasely narrowed her eyes dangerously. "We will think on your favor."

Albus nodded hastily. "Yes you will-"

"And you'll bring the child here."

"Ah- But I was thinking tha-"

"Yes you were thinking Albus Dumbledore, something you've done far too much of lately. What of it?"

"...yes, alright, I'll bring him tomorrow-"

"No. Bring him in tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Molly dear, we have that appointment with the Lovegoods tomo-"

"We'll deal with it later Arthur. Tonight. After dinner. 11pm I'd say would be an excellent time, don't you?"

"Yes dear."

"Indeed Molly."

"Well then? What are you waiting for? Get to it!"

As Albus Dumbledore walked away feeling like a 10 year old all over again, looking over his head at Arthur feeling the exact same way, he grinned somewhat, the smile disappearing into his beard. Control of the Weasely household hadn't changed much over the years.

* * *

><p>Dinner went as usual. Percy's nose underneath his school books, Ron nervous about the coming school year, Fred and George teasing Ron about having to wrestle a troll while saying your name backwards and Ginny moping about not being able to go with Ron to Hogwarts.<p>

They had all asked why Professor Dumbledore had come to visit them that day, the question being phrased anywhere from a polite request, like how Percy did it to a misguided attempt at mindreading, as Ginny did. The twins, of course, did not ask, knowing how that would go, and had decided on the course of listening in to them later.

However, when all was said and done, dinner was made, the children tucked to bed under the totalitarian eye of their mother, and the table set once more for their visitor. Molly showed some of her unease, the only sign of her inner turmoil the iron grip her right hand held on his left. For Arthur's part however, he said and did nothing, merely holding on to his wife's hand. It was only when the door bell rang, and Arthur opening the door to the wizened headmaster and the messy haired child that he realized that he didn't know what to expect from Harry Potter.

He remembered the boy's father. The raggedy black hair that was James' staple had been inherited to his son, as was a good portion of his features. The eyes surprised him though, being a bright green that seemed to glow in the late night's darkness. He was immediately reminded of Lily, the eyes were almost exact replicas of his mother's. He was skinny, surprisingly so, his face pale as though frightened out of his wits while wearing an oversized shirt and pants combo that seemed obviously second hand, making his already thin frame even more explicitly malnourished. He almost chuckled at that, predicting that Molly's eyes widen into silver plates. She would probably feed the poor boy his own body's weight worth of meat, and then feed him twice more that just in case. He moved carefully through the door, as though afraid he might break something, which disturbed Arthur somewhat. He took the time, in the few seconds he had, to look at Harry before he reached the dining room.

Harry didn't _act _like either of his parents in any way. He was not passionate or confident like James was, not from his body actions anyway. When he had first met the man, he had barged in through the door, shook his hand and asked where the loo was because he'd been holding it in all day. In contrast, his son was quiet and, while he seemed to have some confidence to himself, it wasn't tinged with the slight arrogance James himself had. It was more like...a certainty. Like, he knew himself far more than James ever did when he was the same age.

The similarities with Lily were somewhat more apparent. He seemed observant, if not that curious at the very least, with his eyes tracking all the magical objects in the living room with interest sparkling dimly in his eyes. Harry didn't really show it but, considering he was the son of Lily Potter, he was probably fairly intelligent. Somewhat shy too, which was understandable really, as he greeted them both a good evening carefully like he'd rehearsed it before hand. He couldn't help but smile a little at that. Lily _always _prepared her speeches before hand when she was in the Order.

The most telling of all tho was that these didn't seem like his _dominant _trait. For James, it was his confidence. Whatever he did, it shone with unparalleled confidence, not an iota of doubt in a single act. For Lily, it was her kindness and intelligence. She was always kind, always, and was perhaps one of the most intelligent people he ever had the pleasure to meet. While Harry had exhibited some amount of confidence, and perhaps was just as intelligent as his mother, he...

He just seemed sad.

Arthur gritted his teeth silently. This was gonna be a long night.

* * *

><p>Harry felt...strange.<p>

This house was the complete opposite of the Dursleys. The house he grew up in was always orderly, clean and not a single thing out of it's rightful place. Aunt Petunia had a full stock of cleaning detergents and mops and brooms and what have you, as well as likely having a back up of 2 more of the same item, just in case they got lost. He remembered that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had once had a serious discussion on how to keep the chemicals away from their bumbling little tub of joy, and had come to the conclusion that keeping them locked away under the sink with child safe caps on each bottle would be a good start. Obviously, the thought that Harry would have accidentally harmed himself with them never even crossed their mind.

On the other hand, this house was...odd. He had seen the towering structure from the outside and he'd been impressed, at the arrogant dismissal of every known standard of safety or, from the obvious age of what Dumbledore had called 'The Burrow', common sense. No one in their right mind would have chosen to stay in this place. It should have been a rotting, cold, and horrible place that he wouldn't have wanted to stay in for a single second. Instead, it was well lit, warm, with moving pictures, _moving pictures_, of a happy family in nearly every desk or wall, with two adults, the parents probably, sitting nearby. It felt like a home. Something he never had, and Harry would have had tears in his eyes if he wasn't busy reigning It in.

"_Ohh...the WEASELYS...it's been such a long, long time since I've met THEM."_ the Darkness whispered into his mind, cackling incessantly as It eyed the couple. _"So old now. Not like when James was alive and kicking, or dear, dear Charles when he met them on a cold, wintery day. Maybe they've bred more now hmm? More little red-headed vermin to scurry around the dust and mud. Little, delectable, bags of meat to be devoured and savored."_

A vision of meat and blood, a pale face staring blankly at him with crimson hair as half his body was shredded into scraps, invaded Harry's mind. He gritted his teeth then, growing pale and started walking slowly so as not to trip from the vision. Those two were watching him, he knew it, and if they knew that Harry was holding something like the Darkness inside of him then they would kick him out without hesitation to protect their family. He was a nobody to them, why would they risk his neck out for him? He was just a useless nobody, a murderer that killed his own family. He was nothing, worse than not-

"_ENOUGH!" _Harry screamed silently into his mind _"Stop playing with my mind! I mean it! St-STOP playing with my mind!"_

The Darkness chuckled, the boy's outburst amusing to him. _"But it's so much fun Harry!" _It said, dark joy flowing through Harry's body as It said so. _"It's the only fun I'll have for weeks, maybe even years! Playing with your mind, piercing your little dreams and whispering into your ears. I'm sure it'll only be a matter of time until you start to kill and bathe in their blood and filth to keep me away. Or would you rather just get on with it now and slice these their heads off? Quickly, so they wouldn't scream and alert their children. Then you could simply take your sweet time, walk slowly up these rotten steps and ravage the rest of their petty little brood. You have the rest of the night to do-"_

"_I said ENOUGH." _Harry shouted within his, what little control he had crumbling as he gave in to his terror and anger.

The Darkness chuckled as it receded into his mind. _"As you wish... for now."_

With that mental battle ended, he came back to the world with the worried looks of all three adults present on him. Crushing down the fear that had enveloped him just now, he carried on as he always did.

Harry smiled somewhat, rather pathetically probably, his eleven year old mind trying to recover from the Darkness' games as he looked towards the two. First was the man, who seemed to study him intently, then the woman, who was very definitely looking at him with care and concern. It was a strange feeling, knowing that someone cared for you and letting it show so obviously. He spoke quietly "Go-good evening. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

The ginger haired man coughed quietly, as tho giving himself time to think on what to say. "Ah...yes, hello Harry." the man said with a hesitant smile on his lips "My name is Arthur Weasely, and this is-"

"Molly. Molly Weasely. So good to have you here Harry." the woman, Mrs. Weasely apparently, greeted him as she smiled widely and stood up. As she walked towards him, she gently led him deeper into the house. "Have you eaten dinner yet Harry? I think we still have some chicken soup in the kitchen hmm?"

Harry, taken aback by the friendly greeting and offer of food, couldn't think and reverted to old instincts when confused. "Yes Ma'am. I would like some." he said mechanically and politely as his mind tried to find more familiar bearings.

The red haired woman tutted at him, as she sat him down onto a worn, but strangely comforting chair. "Now, now. None of that Ma'am business. I'm not your teacher after all! You can call me Mrs. Weasely, how about that?"

He blinked as he watched her work and nodded. "That...sounds good Mrs. Weasely."

* * *

><p>As Dumbledore watched the Weasely matron lead the boy deeper into the house, he turned towards Arthur, who was watching the same sight, though with far more interest on the boy himself. "Well, what do you think of the boy Arthur?" the headmaster spoke, his voice carefully neutral "Does he seem like James or Charles Potter?"<p>

Arthur's face grimaced for a split second before returning to a more neutral visage. "No. No he's not. In fact, it's like the complete opposite of both of them. He's more careful and timid than James ever was, and he's definitely a good boy inside, the farthest thing from Charles. He probably got them both from Lily." Arthur snorted.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "Most definitely, but I doubt that is the only reason. You weren't there when the Potter bloodline was still young with the Darkness. They were a...kind family. Anthony Potter, despite all his wicked knowledge and all the dark awe that those who walk the dark path held to him, was one of the kindest and most sorrowful men I've ever met. We can only imagine what would have happened had William Potter not gone through this dark destiny." he said wistfully "Perhaps none of this need ever happened. Sadly, that is not for us to know."

For a moment, Arthur looked at Dumbledore in complete astonishment before turning back to the empty doorframe. "Sometimes, I forget just how old you are headmaster. You could give Nicolas Flamel a run for his money." Arthur laughed dryly.

A moment of silence fell over the pair. It was a weighty silence, with much left unsaid between the both of them. Dumbledore seemed calm, his boy betraying nothing to any observers, even as his mind profusely analyzed and observed. Arthur seemed just as calm, but was nowhere near as skilled as the headmaster was at concealing it. His body was taut with held tension, like that of a wolf protecting his camp. He broke the silence first.

"I hope Harry doesn't bring misfortune to us Dumbledore." Arthur spoke quietly.

"He will not." Dumbledore answered confidently, though just as quietly. "He will be trained much better than James was, and he'll keep his heart alive, unlike Charles. But you must understand Arthur, with Lord Voldemort alive, he will bring misfortune to you one way or another."

Arthur nodded. "I know, and both me and Molly are prepared for that. But what I want to know is if that..._thing_, that Darkness, will haunt us again."

Dumbledore hesitated. "I...cannot promise that Arthur. Each Darkness Host walks with death at his side and misfortune in his heart. Not a single Host has ever had anything close to a happy ending. Harry Potter will be no different. All I can promise is that he'll be strong enough to control it, and that he won't turn it against you or your family. His upbringing has put a sense of family into him, and he will not destroy this house or your family if a single spark of life is still within him."

Arthur opened his mouth, as though to speak, and closed it again, shaking his head ruefully as he did.

"You do know, in the state that both me and Molly saw him, that the only way you'll take Harry away from her is with an obliviate to the skull and a dozen aurors separating the two."

Dumbledore's elderly chuckle was the only response Arthur got.

* * *

><p>Everything was going according to plan...more or less.<p>

It was hard to coordinate everyone, of course. I mean, when mum and dad said everyone were all supposed to go and do their own thing while they talked to a guest they'd also known that their children wouldn't take that at face value (except Percy, bloody prat) and try to overhear the conversation. When Ron said that he saw _Albus Dumbledore _walk in, they all knew that the stakes were raised and they absolutely _had _to hear that conversation. If not for curiosity on what the Headmaster might possibly want, then out of principal. It was a blatant _challenge _to the rest of the household, and that could only be answered with force.

Ginny Weasely had huffed, of course, when any and all attempts to attack that meeting were a complete failure, it was difficult to stay positive after that. Fred and George said that they couldn't hear anything from the room directly above the living room, or through the walls between the kitchen and aforementioned living room. Ron said that all the windows to the living room were impossibly hard to open, and quiet apparently, while what little floorboards she was able to dig under the entire Burrow was for naught, because even _that _gave them nothing.

She had freaked a bit, of course, when her eyes had locked on to the headmaster. She had heard all the stories, mostly from Percy, but a good portion from Fred and George as well, that he could read minds and immediately know _everything_ about the person. Not that she actually _believed_ that the Dumbledore could of course, but still, whatever else the twins said, she did _not _squeak.

So, when Mummy had gone and made her final rounds before going back into the living room, she and the others were ready. She knew enough that they wouldn't stay put in their beds, so she locked them into their rooms. That was fine, they overcame that problem years ago, and they had a set of scaffolding connected to each of their rooms from outside the Burrow. They worked in silence tempered with insatiable curiosity, they didn't need to talk, they already worked out the plan hours ago.

(Well, Ron worked out the plan hours ago. But still.)

They knew that they wouldn't be able to get out of their beds, meet up, and go to the living room in time before they'd go to the kitchen. They also knew they couldn't get inside, that much was obvious. So they had decided that the best move they could make was draw one of them outside and sneak someone in, probably by making a huge ruckus that would force someone to check. The Twins, predictably, had volunteered for that particular honor.

That left someone to infiltrate the room. This was problematic, as they didn't have any sort of illusion charm to disguise the infiltrator. They _could _have asked Percy, he'd probably know, but the twins snort from Ron's suggestion summarized the general idea on that. They could ask Percy, but only if they wanted their plans to immediately explode as he goes running off to Mum.

So, with time running out and few options remaining, it was decided that the infiltrator would simply have to run in there, take a peek at whatever secrets they have in there, then hightail it back to the room. Not the very best of plans, but the one they eventually settled with. Ginny volunteered, and was accepted, for two reasons. One, her room was nearest to the ground floor, meaning she could get back to her room as quickly as possible and Fred and George could make the distraction as high in the attic as they could. Two, she likely would have pummeled them all to bits if they denied her, which Ron took with a slight frown and the Twins took with vast amusement.

So there Ginny found herself, crouching next to the doorway as she hid behind a plotted plant. If anybody had asked, she would have denied that she was frightened. Or nervous. Or scared. And yes, she knew frightened and scared were the same thing. Or that they weren't even asking about how she was, instead asking a rather banal question like how was the weather or something. She'd still reply that she knew that, even if she was as red as a tomato afterwards.

It was at that point that she heard the most abominable racket she could think of, like a cross between wild animals in considerable panic, the screams of a particularly shocked and cross _thing_, and the raucous laughter of the twins. With a sigh, Ginny realized what they had done. They had woken up the ghoul. By throwing a pig at it. Probably a sleeping pig, judging by the screams.

The reactions were immediate. The door swung open, almost hitting the plant, and Mum went upstairs, fury and concern plainly shown on her face. Ginny quickly grabbed the wooden stick she had with her, which she frequently used for wand form practice, and jammed it into the doorframe's slender opening, preventing it from closing entirely. Ginny then moved quickly, jumping out of the plant, and rushing inside.

The first thing she saw was the concerned look of her father, but she expected that, so she quickly moved her attention elsewhere. She then saw the calm, but also amused, expression of the Headmaster himself, which frightened Ginny for a moment. They were both sitting by the dinning table, facing each other. The head of the table nearest to the door was in slight shambles, with the chair having been knocked back, and Ginny guessed that Mum had been sitting there. She then turned her head to the other side of the table.

She saw a rather gaunt, messy haired, little boy. Not particularly impressive, if you asked her. Far too thin. Her mother had obviously made that same conclusion, as he was currently feasting on some left over chicken soup. She couldn't really get a good glimpse on him.

Ginny could hear her father speak, in noticeable surprise, followed by the Headmaster. This was enough to get the boy to look up from his meal and looked at her. When asked later, she'd tell her siblings that the reason she froze on the spot was because of their father's unexpected anger. Not, in actuality, because the boy's green piercing her's shocked her into near catatonia. Then she saw the scar, and even Arthur's shock and momentary anger could not withstand the parental amusement that would come next. She did what every little girl would invariably do in that situation.

Ginevra Weasely squealed, like the fangirl that she was.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Now, the thing about the Darkness is that at no point in it's existence has it _ever_ given _any _of it's Hosts a truly happy ending. They either became monsters, were destroyed by the Darkness' enemies, or were simply destroyed by circumstances out of their control. The same applies with anyone the Host meets, their lives are inevitably twisted by contact. Which makes you wonder, what, exactly, Charles and James did that made the Weaselys dislike them so much eh?

Also, it seems like a contractual thing that every unfamiliar introduction of Harry has to include mention of his raggedy hair. Or green eyes. That's amusing really, and gives me a sort of 'general' thing to compare Harry to.


End file.
